


The Wand of Ravenclaw

by Th3Alchemist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Harry Potter Setting, F/M, Harry & Hermione Relationship, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Hogwarts Seventh Year, Horcrux Hunting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-01
Updated: 2020-03-01
Packaged: 2021-02-27 20:16:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 25
Words: 104,194
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22971613
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Th3Alchemist/pseuds/Th3Alchemist
Summary: Seventh year dawns, and the Horcruxes remain as elusive as ever. Harry takes up the hunt, and as his friendship with Hermione blossoms into something more, both come to realise that their entwined destiny may be the key to finally defeating Voldemort. Combining the power of the Founders, and their own special magic, Team Harmony pit themselves against the Dark Lord one final time.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Harry Potter, Luna Lovegood/Ron Weasley
Comments: 5
Kudos: 77





	1. A Hollow Night

An illuminated clock tower stood like a blue-hued beacon against the black sky. Dense cloud and a drifting fog obscured from view any stars whose light was visible against the electric orange glow of the buzzing streetlamps or the subdued glimmer of the clock face. According to the hands it was nearly three a.m. To the one person awake in the little village it could have been any time at all.

For time seemed to have little meaning these days for Harry Potter. Nights spent fully awake, days filled with endless ponderings and poring over maps and antique catalogues, constant research into the possibilities and permutations of the mind of Lord Voldemort and into what sorts of precious objects the most evil dark sorcerer of all time would wish to diffract his soul.

This was the reason why he found himself here, in the middle of the night. He was somewhere in Wales, though he couldn't be sure where. He was no great geographer. In any case, he wouldn't have been able to pronounce it. Abercwmdyddderi, or something like that. The sort of place name that should have bought a vowel years ago. But that wasn't tremendously important. After all, it hadn't bothered his parents, so why should it bother him?

These night time wanderings had become a feature of Harry's recent life. On the eve of his seventeenth birthday, his last night at Privet Drive, he announced to the Dursleys that he would leave them the next morning to go off and join the war against Voldemort, and that it would most likely cost him his life.

He remembered the odd look of horror which flashed across Aunt Petunia's face at these words. It was a look that haunted his dreams. Even worse was the little sob she let out when he forced a 'thank you' from his mouth for allowing Dumbledore's magical protection to work for all these years. He thought it was what the great man would have wanted him to do, even though it cost him every ounce of humility he possessed.

It was then, at the very end of their connection, that Harry finally appreciated that deep down - very, _very_ deep down - Aunt Petunia was, after all things, still a blood relative. On some well concealed sub level, she remained Lily Evans' sister.

Harry had strode from Privet Drive at exactly eight o'clock the next morning. Uncle Vernon had already left the house and Harry, accompanied by Hermione and Ron, said a last goodbye, informed Petunia and Dudley that the magical qualities of the house were now totally removed and then left with just a mumbled goodbye. He summoned the Knight Bus and headed straight for the Ministry of Magic in London.

Harry remembered the strained trip, the beginning of a strained relationship with those two closest to him. They bombarded him with questions about what he was going to do; well, Ron asked once and didn't open his mouth again after the verbal lashing Harry handed out. Hermione, though, was her usual persistent self, demanding an explanation and adding threats that she and Ron would leave at the next stop. Harry told them nothing was stopping them doing just that and he wouldn't stand in their way if they chose to abandon him. He secretly wanted them to. He knew his path would lead them into great danger and he had resolved to keep them away from it as much as he could. Still, the hurt look on Hermione's face at the suggestion still filled him with terrific guilt.

Once at the Ministry (Hermione's threats had proven to be hollow) Harry marched straight up to Level Six and after a heated discussion with Wilkie Twycross (which ended with Twycross being threatened at wand-point by Harry) a hasty Apparition test was arranged. Harry passed first time, apologised to Twycross and left with his license before anyone really knew what had happened.

This was crucial to Harry's plan. Already wracked with years of guilt for putting his friends in danger, Harry had decided to do as much of the actual Horcrux hunting as possible alone. He was content to let Hermione do the research (why deny the girl her first love?) and let Ron think up extraordinarily complex and highly ridiculous plans to destroy the various pieces of Voldemort's soul, but when it came to the really dangerous act of actually venturing into the world to find them, Harry was determined to do this by himself.

Which was why night time had become suddenly the most convenient period of the day. The cover of darkness allowed Harry to escape from his constant shadows. Hermione seemed to have read Harry's mind about his plans to slip away and was following him around wherever he went, hoping to stop him in the act. And if Harry managed to give her the slip, he more often than not ran into Ron, who was also tailing Harry on Hermione's orders.

At least Ron could be persuaded to look the other way, so long as Harry promised not to leave the grounds of The Burrow. Ron's fee for this complicity was Harry not letting on to Hermione that he'd let him go, so that Ron would avoid a telling off for the act.

And so it was that Harry finally found the determination to learn complex magical skills. He spent most daytime hours practising and practising non-verbal spells, Occlumency and Legilimency with Fleur, the only witch besides Hermione who was powerful enough to aid him. This helped distract Fleur from the hive of activity in preparations for the wedding, which had to factor in Bill's meat craving becoming all-consuming at the time of the full moon, which also happened to be the exact conditions they wanted to conduct their marriage ceremony under. This led to Molly becoming so over-protective that Fleur wanted to hex her, so casting spells at Harry instead was a good source of stress-relief for the poor girl, and at the same time ensured that Molly Weasley would still be alive for her eldest son's approaching nuptials.

In this atmosphere of distraction Harry confined himself to his room or the field behind the Burrow where he could practice spells or study books on advanced magic, both defensive and offensive, that he had swiped from the Hogwarts Library. And he was becoming quite proficient at both.

But as yet his nocturnal ventures had not brought him into contact with the enemy. Harry divided his jaunts during the unearthly hours between spell studying in the shadows of the Burrow's vast garden and Horcrux searching across the country. He had invented four leads so far, but each one had proven false. Harry was hardly surprised, as these were highly uneducated guesses and were as much an excuse to get out into the world and at least _feel_ active as anything else. But instead of returning to The Burrow, Harry tended to take a little detour and sit quietly at the graves of his parents, in the shadows of the long-derelict family home that he had no memory of at all.

That was where he was now. The graves were simple affairs, just two small plots in what would have been the back garden, each surrounded by a ring of small pebbles and two square headstones embossed with the name of the soul buried beneath them. There was none of the pomp and grandeur of Dumbledore's tomb, and Harry liked that. He had never known them, but something told him that his parents wouldn't have been comfortable sleeping for eternity beneath such a shrine. This simplistic vision was much more their style, or so Harry had come to believe.

The air was quiet, still, and Harry liked that about the place. Every time he came here it was peaceful, the silence resonating with a sort of safety that Harry liked very much. Silence was usually a prelude for some disaster or another in Harry’s life, but as the disaster here had _already_ happened it was a different quality of silence that hung over Godric’s Hollow.

Sort of like the calm _after_ the storm.

Harry didn't say much when he sat at the foot of the graves, just looked mostly and thought of the things he should be saying. This was enough to him. He thought about the conversations he should be having with his parents, all about his life and his hopes and dreams. He even imagined their responses sometimes and played out entire conversations to himself, often sitting there for several hours. It was at these times, more than any other, that Harry really wished his parents could be there to help him do what needed to be done … this fell task which nature had ordained for him and no other.

Harry's mind often span at this paradox. For if his parents had still been alive then he wouldn't have had to do anything, other than be a soldier against Voldemort. This led Harry to wonder how Neville, the other potential Boy Who Lived, would be dealing with this situation in his place. Secretly, with arrogance that shamed him, Harry was almost glad that the situation wasn't reversed. If it were, Harry thought, they'd all be as good as dead. Besides, Neville was nervous enough as it was, and Harry wouldn't want any of his friends to shoulder this crippling burden that was his to carry.

As he sat there musing over all these thoughts, Harry suddenly heard a noise behind him. Quicker than a flash his wand was out, pointing towards the disturbance. It was a sort of rustling sound, quickly followed by another. A few more later and Harry was sure they were footsteps and leapt behind his mother's headstone, ready to fight. Slowly, a figure emerged from the shadows at the side of the wrecked house.

“I know you’re there, Harry, so you can put your wand down,” said a voice from the darkness.

“Hermione?” Harry asked out, lowering his wand a fraction.

“So, _this_ is where you've been going every night,” came the reply.

“What are you doing here?” Harry frowned, pocketing his wand as Hermione came into full view.

“What do you think I'm doing here, Harry!” Hermione whispered crossly, a trace of anger in her voice. “Taking a night time stroll two hundred miles from The Burrow?”

“Being sarcastic doesn't answer my question,” Harry rebuffed, standing from behind the Celtic cross.

“I've come to see where it is you keep slipping off to,” said Hermione, annoyed. “You must think I'm incredibly stupid, Harry.”

“We've had this discussion before I think,” Harry replied, irritably. “Anyway, how did you find me?”

“You're not the only person who can Apparate,” Hermione sniped. “Let's not forget who has being doing it longer, either.”

“No, we shouldn't do that. We all know how you get when your brilliance is challenged.”

Hermione seemed unable to respond right away and Harry could see in her face that she was shocked. But he didn't care, her interfering was starting to get annoying.

“And by the way,” Harry continued. “Sneaking up on someone when there's a war on isn't a wise thing to do. I could've cursed you back then.”

“And sneaking off when people are trying to look after you is downright irresponsible!” Hermione snapped back.

“Er, maybe you haven't heard,” Harry quirked snarkily. “Lord Voldemort is trying to kill me! And just because you're the only one who doesn't clam up at the sound of his name doesn't mean that you, or anyone else, can _l_ _ook after_ me. The safest I'll be is hunting down and destroying the Horcruxes. It's the only way to weaken him. Now, I'm _sorry_ if this gets in the way of your little plans to protect me at the Burrow, but tough luck. Deal with it.”

“And that’s what you’re doing now is it!” Hermione shrieked in a desperately shrill tone. “Hunting Horcruxes … in full view of any Death Eaters who might happen to be guarding the site of your parents’ murder? A place any idiot could guess you might want to visit?”

“And that’s how _you_ guessed I was here, is it?” Harry riled. “You just picked the stupidest place that _I_ might have gone and came straight here.”

“No, _I_ thought of the place you might want to seek the most comfort,” Hermione volleyed back, though her voice was a degree softer. “And as you didn’t go to a _living_ person, I suspected that you’d come here. You forget how well I know you, Harry.”

Harry huffed at the jolt of truth, but even in his frustration there was a spark of warmth that Hermione, of all of them, still had his welfare close to her heart. At least someone did. It popped his bubble of irritation.

Harry sat on his mother’s headstone. “I meant what I said though. This is my task, Hermione … and sitting behind a shield at The Burrow wont make that go away.”

“I know what it is you have to do, Harry,' said Hermione, taking a seat on James Potter’s memorial slab. “I just don't know why you keep trying to do these things alone. You keep blocking everything, and everyone, out. We're only trying to help.”

“But what if you can't?” said Harry, rounding on Hermione in the dark. The shine of the moonlight in her eyes startled him slightly. “I have to face _him_ in the end. Not you or Ron or anyone … just me. Maybe I'm the only one who can destroy the Horcruxes. Maybe that’s part of the Prophecy.

“These things have self-defence mechanisms built in, but none have hurt _me_ yet. Two of them accounted for Dumbledore; the ring made his hand useless and slowed his reactions, and going for the fake locket practically finished him off. And I _helped_. I certainly weakened him enough to be killed by Snape. Maybe _I_ should have drank that potion … maybe I could have … maybe _he’d_ be…”

Hermione blinked a moist look across at him in the gloom light. Harry sighed and looked up at the crescent moon hanging in the darkness overhead.

“You cant … you _don’t_ … _blame yourself_ for that? Do you?” Hermione asked gently.

Harry closed his eyes, the heavy truth forcing his lids down with his heaving heart.

“A little, yeah.”

Hermione gasped in her heartbreak. Harry tried to swat off the guilt the sound stirred in him.

“I know I had no choice, but I still did it,” Harry mumbled. “I made him weak. And I don't want to make you or Ron do that sort of thing, to put you in danger … or for you to have to live with the aftermath.”

“And I've already told _you_ – we've already told you – that we do this willingly,” Hermione cried, facing down Harry in the shadows. “We put ourselves at risk, and we do it for _you_. Not because we have to, but because we choose to. If Dumbledore couldn't do these things alone, do you think he'd want _you_ to?”

Harry desperately wanted to say that he wouldn't know what Dumbledore wanted because he was dead. But instead he just sat there mutely.

“I just don't like you going off on you own, Harry,” Hermione continued. “You're too important to be risked. You're the Chosen One and all that. We're nothing. Expendable.”

“You are _not_ expendable!” Harry shot back hotly. “Don’t ever say that!”

Hermione seemed startled a moment by Harry’s burst of passion.

"I just don't think I could cope with the grief of you dying, Harry!" Hermione moaned, desperately. "Oh I just cant _stand_ this! Waking up every night and finding your bed empty, not knowing if you're coming back. Do you have any idea how worried you're making me? You keep running off alone, and if anything happened I'd never even know you'd _gone_ ... until Voldemort announced it to the world! I couldn't bear that!"

“You'd have Ron, you'd get over it,” Harry retorted somewhat bitterly.

Hermione bristled in the darkness. “And what does _that_ tone mean?”

“Tone? What tone?”

“The one you just used,” Hermione elaborated. “The one laced with basilisk acid.”

Harry took a breath. “Sorry. I didn’t mean that. I’m happy for you, honest. It just sort of makes my point.”

“What point?”

“That you are not expendable,” Harry explained. “You have people who’d be devastated if anything happened to you. Me included. But you also have this _thing_ going on with Ron. That’s your focus right now. I don’t need you when your head is elsewhere … which is more often than not attached to Ron’s these days.”

Hermione blushed in the moonlight. “I didn’t think you’d noticed. We were trying to be discreet.”

“Discreet!” Harry laughed. “At _The Burrow_! Good luck with that!”

Hermione had a shy chuckle herself. “We’re just trying it out, you know. After all that nonsense last year. Like Ron said, it’s now or never, isn’t it?”

There was a grimness in her voice that made Harry nod in glum agreement.

“And how _is_ it going?” Harry asked.

“It’s not heavy or serious yet, but what _is_ where Ron Weasley is concerned?” Hermione laughed. “I’m not sure it ever will be. But it’s like an itch that I wont be satisfied with until I scratch, you know?”

“So Ron is like a pollip. I see,” Harry teased.

Hermione slapped his arm playfully. “So … what about you and Ginny? You don’t seem to speak very much at The Burrow.”

“I broke it off with her,” Harry replied bluntly, drawing a shocked gasp from Hermione. “She wasn’t happy about it.”

“Why? When? What did you say?”

“It wasn’t so much what _I_ said, but what _she_ did,” Harry clarified. “I told her, at Dumbledore’s funeral, that I was going after the Horcruxes. That it wasn’t right that I stayed with her not knowing … you know … if I was ever coming back again.”

“Oh, Harry, don’t say -”

“We both know that’s a very real possibility,” Harry cut her off. “Not much point in pretending otherwise. Anyway, Ginny told me that she knew it was coming, actually said she knew I wouldn’t be _happy_ unless I was fighting Voldemort.”

Hermione sucked in a shocked breath. “What a terrible thing to say at such a moment!”

“Just proved that she didn’t know me at all,” Harry sighed wearily. “She never really did. I mean, how could she? I saw that all in that instant. She is, and forever will remain - to the last - just Ron’s pretty little sister. It was a brief respite from my darkness, but nothing more. My darknesses wont ever fully go away, and any partner of mine will need to understand that.

“Ginny got it all sorts of wrong. I wont be _happy_ until Voldemort is gone. But _fighting_ _him_ isn’t my drive. So Ginny and I are done. I cant abide a potential girlfriend who would misunderstand me so fundamentally.”

“And you told her that?” Hermione quirked lightly. “That was brave.”

“It earned me a slap,” Harry mused thoughtfully. “And a fortnight of silent treatment at The Burrow!”

“Now I understand your eagerness to leave,” Hermione quipped. “Poor Ginny.”

“I’m sure she’ll get over it tolerably well … give it a decade or two,” Harry joked.

“Mind your ego, Harry!” Hermione giggled. “I don’t want your inflated head to make you float away! You’re not _that_ cute that you can survive in space!”

“I beg to differ,” Harry smirked. “I had a letter from _Witch Weekly,_ you know. I’ve been shortlisted for this year’s _Most Charming Smile Award_. I hope I get Voldemort in the final - he’s not supposed to be able to beat me at _anything_!”

Hermione laughed and rocked back on the headstone. “Shut up, Harry!”

“Speaking of old snake-eyes, do you fancy a tour of his handiwork?”

Harry swept his hand towards the ruined building. Hermione’s laughter ceased at once.

“Have you been inside? Is it safe?” Hermione whispered. “Answer the second question first.”

Harry chuckled at her. “The structure is fine. There’s nothing to see, really. Years of exposure to the elements has rotted the inside. But I found the bedroom, top left. That was where it happened … Mum, I mean.”

“How do you know?” Hermione asked softly. She scooted closer to Harry as they looked up at the house.

“Just a feeling,” Harry mumbled in reply. “The air’s just different in that part of the ruin. Like there’s an echo hanging there or something. Bit hard to explain, really. Oh, and there’s graffiti.”

“No!” Hermione riled. “Really?”

“Yep,” Harry nodded. “And all over the garden walls.”

“Heathens!” Hermione hissed. “How could they?”

“Some of it’s quite nice, actually. Lots of touching tributes,” Harry told her. “Then you have the scrawls of Death Eaters poking out in amongst it all. I’ve been trying to identify Draco Malfoy’s handwriting in there, just in case I can start a blood feud and have legal recourse to kill him. But no such luck yet. You’re welcome to try, if you want to be useful while you’re here!”

“Harry!” Hermione admonished. “How can you be so crass? This is where your parents were murdered!”

“And making light of it changes nothing,” Harry returned bullishly. “They aren’t up there, Hermione … or even _down_ there.” He pointed to the ground beneath their feet, then up at his chest. “This is where they are now, and they live on strong and powerfully there, so long as my heart beats for them both. And I think my Dad would have been the _first_ person to make jokes about his own demise! Not to mention the funniest ones!”

Hermione gave a little sob-cum-giggle and moved right next to Harry. Then she did something unexpected and took Harry's hand, squeezing it tightly in her own.

“I’m sorry for being so saucy with you when I arrived,” Hermione whispered gently. “It was thoughtless. Forgive me?”

“There’s nothing to forgive,” Harry smiled. “Besides, you were right. We should get back -”

“No!” said Hermione firmly. “This is where you feel you have to be right now and I'm going to be with you - wherever that place is. So we stay.”

“Are you … are you sure?” Harry asked, a little startled. “I mean, it's a bit morbid.”

“It’s not morbid, Harry, to want to sit with your parents. I told you earlier that I understand why you're drawn here. And now I’m here, too, so I can look after you. Make sure you don’t get into any mischief!”

“Haven’t you been trying to do that for the last six years?” Harry chortled. “How has that worked out for you?”

“Well we have to break the pattern sometime,” Hermione sniffed. “Maybe tonight - for just one night - we can.”

“I don’t tend to do much, just sit and think, really. Talk to Mum and Dad about all that’s going on,” Harry confessed. “It’s silly, I know, but it makes me feel like I’m not quite so alone in all this.”

Hermione sighed sadly. Then she slipped down to sit on the floor and rested her back against one of the headstones. She beckoned Harry to join her and, when he did, slipped an arm around his neck and drew him close to her. She was wonderfully warm and Harry relaxed into her embrace willingly.

Hermione began to rhythmically thread her free hand through Harry’s hair, making him cosy and sleepy, as she re-took his own hand with her other. Then she placed a chaste kiss to the top of his head.

“You never have to think you're alone, Harry,” she soothed in her cloud-soft voice, as though reading his mind. “Because as long as _I’m_ around, you never will be.”

He could only smile at her and return the hand squeeze, as together they sat quietly enjoying the peace of the night.


	2. Portraits and Possibilities

It was past dawn when Harry woke up. In fact, judging by the strength of the sunlight, it was probably well into the morning. Harry didn't even remember falling asleep but he had to admit there was a certain freshness about the morning. He didn't really want to move, feeling that he'd be happy to stay there all day. Then he looked down.

He had almost completely forgotten that Hermione was there at all. She was sound asleep, head nestled in the crook of his shoulder, her bushy brown head bobbing up and down as she breathed. Harry noticed he was now resting against the side of his mother's headstone, a most bizarre place to sleep, he thought, and one that couldn't be healthy for him.

Harry felt a little awkward at having Hermione asleep upon him. How was he supposed to wake her? How would she react when he did? How long could he sit there until she woke of her own accord? Probably ages, he thought to himself. There was something comforting about the warmth of her next to him and he would have been quite content to close his eyes and get a little more rest. But he knew by now, that he - that they both - would be missed at The Burrow.

Gently Harry tapped Hermione's shoulder. Nothing happened. He hadn't expected it to. He had tapped her so softly she probably wouldn't have felt it even if she was wide awake. He tried again, this time pushing her head a little and breathing her name into her hair. She stirred a little at this, but instead of waking merely turned her body and slid her arms around Harry's waist, settling her head into his chest.

Strangely, Harry felt an involuntary beat escape from his chest and a little shiver tickle up his spine that had nothing to do with the light breeze dancing around the garden. He shrugged it off and tried to wake Hermione a little more forcefully, but his reluctance to the act was sure to linger in his mind for days.

"Hermione, wake up," Harry whispered, rubbing her shoulders gently. "We have to go now."

"What? Ron? What is it?" Hermione mumbled, half-asleep.

"It ... er ... it isn't Ron. It's Harry," he muttered guiltily.

"Wha?"

Hermione shot up quickly and looked around in surprise. Her hair was fuzzy and her eyes bright and confused.

"Morning," Harry smirked at her toussled look.

"Oh, Harry," Hermione squeaked, startled. She started smoothing down her hair. "Sorry - I can't believe we fell asleep! What time is it?"

"Dunno," Harry replied blithely. "I haven't got a watch."

"Oh, well, never mind. We'd better be getting a move on anyway, people will be wondering where we are. Oh my, what are we going to tell them?"

Hermione was blushing furiously and Harry, watching this in avid confusion, didn't really have an answer for her.

"We'll just say you went out and I followed you," said Hermione, thinking fast. "You went somewhere close, somewhere like Stoatshead Hill. Yes! That's far enough away. You went out, I followed you, and we only just got back. That's what we'll say."

"Ok" Harry agreed, still smirking. Then he said, a little quieter, "But is spending the night with me _really_ that awful a thing to confess?"

"Oh, Harry, I didn't mean – well, what I meant to say was – oh, don't you know how that'll look?"

"It won't look like anything," Harry retorted, still confused. "We're friends. Everyone knows that."

"Not everyone knows that," said Hermione darkly. Harry couldn't shake the feeling that her weird tone was distinctly Molly Weasley-flavoured. That was odd. "And besides, you of all people should know how easily innocent things can get twisted. Rita Skeeter's left your memory already, has she? All those horrible things she printed about you, about us. People's minds work in funny ways, Harry."

"Yeah, and yours funnier than most!" Harry chuckled. "Look, I get what you're saying. I really do. But I can't see anyone thinking what you reckon they will. Unless there was something in old Rita's articles, eh?"

Harry playfully nudged her shoulder with his own.

"Don't tease, Harry, it isn't funny," said Hermione in deathly seriousness.

"I'll believe that only when you stop smirking," Harry replied brightly. "Come on, can you Apparate on an empty stomach?"

"Shall we race?" Hermione challenged.

"Last one on Stoatshead Hill's a rotten pumpkin," said Harry and swirled around before Hermione had chance to respond.

Moments later he found himself on top of the familiar hill where he, Hermione and the Weasleys had once met up with the Diggorys to Portkey to the Quidditch World Cup. Ignoring a stabbing pang of guilt at the thought of Cedric, Harry flung himself to the ground and propped himself into a lounging position. And in good time, too, as no sooner was he set than Hermione materialised in front of him.

"Not very good at this, are you?" Harry teased. "I've been here _ages_. I'll gladly give you some pointers, if you like."

"Get up, Harry," Hermione huffed crossly. "We're late already."

"Late for what? Do you have plans or something?"

"Only to attend your funeral!" Hermione laughed. "Oh course, I have to kill you for _cheating_ first!"

"I did not cheat!" Harry argued in mock hurt. "I won fair and square."

"You didn't give me a chance to get ready!" Hermione fired back. "That's _cheating_. I'd have beaten you otherwise."

"Whatever you say ... _Miss Pumpkin_."

"If you don't wipe that grin off your face, the only pumpkin _you'll_ be mentioning will be in pie form! Mashed down because you wont be able to eat solids ... from where I've hexed you into oblivion!"

"Aww, I didn't know you cared so much," Harry teased, cradling Hermione mockingly. "Where did the love go between us?"

"Get off me!" Hermione giggled, shrugging Harry away playfully. "Merlin! You're so annoying!"

"Thanks," Harry grinned. "I've been practising."

"Why? You were so perfect at it already!"

They spent the rest of the walk back arguing Harry's merits as an annoyance and Hermione's merits as an eternal pessimist. Harry lost, so responded by pushing Hermione into a hay bail in a field just outside the Burrow, just because he could. He never did take losing well. Hermione, after recovering herself, fired a few Jelly-Legs and Laughing curses at Harry as he entered the Burrow yard, but Harry was laughing so much it wouldn't have made much difference if the spells had hit him. He stopped by the garden gate to wait for Hermione, who marched in looking murderous.

"I'll get you back for that," she promised vehemently.

"You'll have to get up pretty early to get the jump on _me_ , Miss Granger!"

"I won't sleep!" she cried and pushed him towards the house, both of them laughing now.

They opened the door to the kitchen and entered. Immediately, a cacophony of noise greeted their arrival. Screams and cries erupted from all directions, demanding to know where they'd been and what they thought they'd been playing at. Mrs Weasley pulled Harry into a bone-shattering hug, which knocked the wind out of him so badly that he had to sit down.

"Where have you been? What have you been doing?" Mrs Weasley cried rhetorically.

"And what's that in your hair, Hermione?" Ron added coming over. He pulled something out of Hermione's bushy locks. "It looks like _hay_? And look, here's a leaf, too! What _were_ you two doing?"

The inference of the cool look on Ron's face wasn't lost on Harry, as it darted between himself and Hermione. Harry knew he should have felt guilty, but his impromptu sleep with Hermione had given him the most peaceful rest he'd had in ages ... and he didn't have it in him right now to think of how Ron might have felt about it all, but he could attend to the reasons for that later.

"Oh! It was Harry, he -" Hermione started to launch into a tirade, but stopped at the look on Ron's face. "He was just being an idiot. As usual."

Hermione rapped Harry on the arm and told her cover story. Harry, whose winding had rendered him incapable of speech was able only to nod in agreement. Hermione seemed convinced that her story had been accepted by the whole room, but it was with a degree of astonishment that Harry looked from face to face and saw nothing but suspicion. Nobody seemed willing to press the issue though, leaving Mrs Weasley to chide them some more as she went back to making breakfast.

Harry didn't stay in for long once he'd eaten. After seeing Ron and Hermione embark on a _private_ walk around the field behind The Burrow, Harry felt he'd rather be somewhere else ... like on one of the ice moons of Jupiter. The whole thing made him curiously uneasy. Staying inside the house wasn't much better, as Mrs Weasley kept muttering things about Harry's safety and Fleur and Bill kept shooting him oddly furtive glances that he just couldn't read at all.

Feeling rather uncomfortable, Harry decided to go out on his own and left with Mrs Weasley's warnings about being careful ringing in his ears. In the garden he happened upon Ginny. She was trying to get Crookshanks to play with her but the cat seemed thoroughly uninterested.

"Hi, Gin," said Harry, in a would-be-breezy voice as he passed.

"Don't, _'hi, Gin,_ ' me!" she snapped, before storming past him into the house.

"Well, I tried," Harry sighed to a purring Crookshanks, as the cat rubbed against his legs. The door to the house slammed hard and Harry turned away, vaulted over the garden wall and made his way along the winding path outside.

It wasn't long before Harry was bored. Ron and Hermione going out was all very well, but it didn't half leave Harry feeling a bit isolated. Not that he felt that bitter about it. He was glad they had found something together. If he was honest, he even felt a little tinge of jealousy that they had something he desperately wanted for himself.

Before the knot this train of thought inspired gripped him too tightly in the stomach, Harry made up his mind to go to Hogwarts. Professor McGonagall had granted him use of the facilities there and he made frequent jaunts to the spookily empty school. It was another reason to flee The Burrow, and as Harry prepared to leave he realised that he was amassing quite a list of such excuses. He needed to look that in the face, really ... but there was something quite terrifying about the process that was making Harry actively avoid it.

Spinning like a top on the hayfield dirt track, Harry felt the now familiar sensation of being squeezed through a bottle neck and emerged moments later outside the even more familiar gates flanked by winged boars. He pushed them open and entered the grounds, trotting along the slight incline of the sloping path. He forked right and made his way to Hagrid's cabin. The sounds of sizzling and Hagrid rattling around inside betrayed that the gamekeeper was awake.

"Be there 'n a minute," said Hagrid as Harry knocked the door. It opened soon after and Hagrid beamed at the sight of him. "Harry! Wha'cha doin' here? S'prised to see ya in the daylight."

"Well, I was at the Burrow," said Harry. "But got a bit bored, you know, so I thought I'd come and see you. You don't mind, do you? I don't want to disturb you."

"Nah, you aint' disturbin' me, Harry, come on in," said Hagrid. Fang, the boarhound, bounded up to Harry as soon as he'd crossed the threshold and promptly tried to lick his face off. "I was just makin' a bit o' brekky, do you want some?"

"No, thanks. I just had breakfast not long ago."

"Ah, an' yer got Molly Weasley cookin' for yer, and I ain't a patch on her, no two ways about it!"

"You know your cooking's _legendary_ , Hagrid," said Harry, smirking.

"Aye, legendary be the word,' said Hagrid with a booming laugh. 'You can force a cuppa down tho, eh?"

"Yeah, that'd be nice, thanks" said Harry, accepting a steaming cup a moment later.

Hagrid busied himself with the kettle for his own tea. "So, how're things, Harry?"

"What things?" Harry quirked. "There are a few going on, you know."

"Well, with yourself," said Hagrid. "Sees you up here half the nights, don' I? So I know you're workin' hard. But how about everything else? How're things with the Weasleys?"

"Oh, fine, you know," said Harry. "It's all wedding this and wedding that, a bit manic at times. At least it's about something good, I suppose."

Hagrid nodded. "And Ron and Hermione? How they doin'?"

"Fine," said Harry again.

"Jus' fine? Even with everythin' ... _new_?"

"What do you mean?" asked Harry,

"Well, you know, now that they're _together_ an all. That's what you said last time, wasn't it? Must be a little strange for everyone."

"Why should it be strange?" Harry queried. "Ron and Hermione have been getting a bit more than friendly for a while now."

"Well ... strange for _you_ , I meant," said Hagrid. "Not saying it's strange that Miss Hermione and Ron are ... well ... _you know_. She's a pretty girl, and Ron's lucky she's picked him out of everyone she might have wanted. But for you, Harry, to be excluded from 'em. Must be a little weird for yer, after so long being a trio as you have been."

Harry hadn't really though about it like that before. He always saw it as Hermione and Ron getting closer, as everyone expected them to. They'd been moving in that direction for some time. Harry didn't think it would change anything for _him_. Hagrid phrasing it like this gave it a much for personal slant and Harry felt really uncomfortable at the thought.

"Well," he said after a while thinking. "It _is_ a bit awkward, I suppose."

"I'll bet," said Hagrid, sagely as he started peeling potatoes. "Your two best friends suddenly all over each other like that. Must be an odd sight."

"I haven't seen them _all over_ each other," Harry scowled. There was something in the very construction of those words that Harry, for a reason he couldn't fathom, didn't like one bit.

"I remember when me an' Olympe, you remember, Madam Maxine?" Hagrid went on, oblivious of what he'd just ignited in Harry's heart. "Well, when we was, ya know, we had to do it in secret, too. Had to hide it from people. Didn't wanna make 'em uncomfortable, like."

"You think they're hiding it from me?" Harry hissed, an odd, alien feeling rising in his chest. "Why should they hide it from me?"

"Well, I dunno, Harry," said Hagrid, backtracking slightly. "Maybe they don' wanna make you feel uneasy."

"Why would I feel uneasy?" Harry demanded. "Don't they think I'd be happy for them? Happy to see them together? I am, you know."

"Are ya, Harry? You don' sound it."

Harry's immediate instinct was to argue the case. But he paused, only for second, but the brief thought that flitted through his mind in that second seemed to last a lifetime. It shook him to his core ... but he eventually regained himself.

"Of course I am. They're my two best friends."

"Well then, there ya are," said Hagrid. "It's them that's being silly. Being all coy if they don't need to. Now, I need to get on with these spuds."

There was a feeling of finality in the conversation at that point. Harry sat quietly finishing his tea, before asking Hagrid if he could open the doors to Hogwarts in order for him to use the library. The castle was as subdued as ever. Even the ghosts seemed to be absent. Harry plodded slowly along the corridors, thinking hard to himself as he went. There was one, overriding thought that kept intruding on other ponderings. And it was giving Harry a deep and overwhelming concern.

_He wasn't happy for Ron and Hermione._

There was no doubt about it. He had thought it fleetingly in Hagrid's cabin, but it was a thought now blooming on the inside of his skull. He could even see the words scribbled down and burning like fire before his eyes. But why? What wasn't there to like about it? It had been obvious for years that it would happen, but why - now that it had - did Harry not like it?

Thoughts and questions like this plagued him all the way to Hermione's Domain, the term he had fondly formed for the empty library. He sat down at the table usually haunted by him and his friends during their study times at Hogwarts. The pile of books he'd last used were skill scattered about, and he thought how Madam Pince might spontaneously combust on the spot if she discovered her library in such a state. Harry scanned the covers of _New Spells for Old Sorcerers_ and _101 Ways to Swish and Flick, Volume II_ and wondered where to begin.

Soon he was immersed, knee-deep in discarded copies of DADA textbooks with notes and scribblings over a stack of parchment on the desk. He had discovered a clever, but complex, little hex which caused masses of hair to grow over the eyes, thus impeding vision, and on a related topic found the page on the Conjuctivitis Curse, which would come in handy to blind Death Eaters. He was writing down the incantation to this when his eyes stumbled across a list of counter-curses One, in particular, jumped out at him.

_The Gryffindor Shield._

Harry's heart seemed to stop for a moment. He picked up the book and read the passage on the curse. Ignoring the part about the incantation and the wand movement he went straight to the explanation of the name:

_It is believed that this counter-curse was first used by the legendary Godric Gryffindor. It is named after the trusty armour he wore to protect himself during jousting tournaments, and has become synonymous with the great wizard. This counter spell will deflect anything below the level of an Unforgivable ..._

Harry read the words, again and again and again. This had to be it, this had to be the Gryffindor-related Horcrux!

Voldemort collected trophies, that's what Dumbledore had said. _...synonymous with the great wizard..._ It made sense. Harry shot up and tore from the library, heading for the Headmistress's office. He was amazed to find it open and vaulted the spiral staircase until he reached the top. He pulled open the door and ran inside to the hanging cabinet, suspended inside which was a shining silver sword. Harry took it out, feeling the familiar jewel-encrusted handle as if trying to glean some mystical guidance from it.

"This was your sword, Godric!" Harry whispered reverently. "It destroyed one Horcrux ... but is your armour another? Will it look like this? I need help ... and I'm at Hogwarts ... so _help me_!"

"Ahh, Harry," said a familiar voice from behind him. "How pleasant it is to see you."

Harry froze in shock and dropped the sword with an almighty clang. He dared not even turn around, unable to believe it was true.

"Professor Dumbledore ... is that you? Are you really here?" Harry breathed nervously.

"Yes, I am here, Harry. Like you've so admirably said in the past, I shall never be truly gone from this school until there are none here who are loyal to me."

"Then how did you - " said Harry spinning around. "Professor, where have you gone?"

"I am here, Harry."

Harry followed the sound of the voice, the balloon in his chest already deflating like a punctured beach ball, as he understood what was happening.

Eventually, Harry's eyes met Dumbledore's ... in his portrait on the wall.

"Why so morose, Harry?" asked Dumbledore pleasantly. "You know that no magic can awaken the dead. It can however, do so much more. I'm delighted with how they've drawn me. I'm so much younger than I felt when I died. And what about this background? A _sock shop_! I have everything a portrait could ever want!"

"It's good to, er, see you, Sir," said Harry sorrowfully. "I think."

"Now, Harry, I think we can drop the formality, due to the change in my circumstance," said Dumbledore. "I am no longer your Headmaster, so there is no need to call me 'Sir' any longer."

"Then what should I call you?"

"I believe one's name provides a tangible clue to such a question."

"I don't think I could get used to that," said Harry.

"Well, perhaps it is a little early for that," smiled Dumbledore. "Perhaps when all this is over and you've grieved me properly. So, what brings you to the office? I've been watching you coming to the school recently. I don't think I've ever known you so much in the library without Miss Granger in tow, or forcing you there."

"Yeah, well," said Harry. "It's about time I got my act together on the learning front. Expellirmus worked against Voldemort once and I think he'd be expecting it a second time, don't you?"

"Quite, quite," chuckled Dumbledore.

"Sir, about those Horcruxes. Did you have -"

"Harry," Dumbledore cut across swiftly. "Before you begin along this path of questioning, remember one thing - I am a mere portrait. I am a memory of the great man I was. I possess neither the complete knowledge nor experiences of my earthly life. I am a record, a copy, a ghost in colour. I retain only what was most dear and important to me."

"And this wasn't important?" Harry cried, his voice rising in spite of the realisation that he was talking to a painting. "This wasn't worthy of remembering?"

"Not in the long run, no," said Dumbledore plainly. "I remember my life, the things I did, those I was close to. But I can neither guide nor teach you in my new form, Harry. I hope I did enough in life on that score. And, judging by that sword you just dropped, I think I _did_."

Harry looked up at Dumbledore ... and his blue eyes were sparkling electric. It was like he was trying to tell Harry a secret, without letting him know that he was.

"What do you mean?" asked Harry.

"The Sword of Gryffindor is a powerful artefact of magical _good_ ," Dumbledore mused aloud. "I would imagine that it might be a useful tool, should one be interested in destroying something of magical _evil_. Or, in _some cases_ , reuniting it with an estranged and wayward _brother_. "

He finished the sentence and gave Harry a fleeting wink. Harry nodded, grinning deeply.

"Thank you, Sir," he said. "You taught me all I need to know."

"Good luck, Harry. And remember ... what most wizards lack is basic _logic_. If you can find this in excessive amounts, you'd do well to keep _her_ very close."

"Her?" said Harry, confused a moment. "Her ... her _..._ _ohhh!"_

And it dawned on him like a thunderbolt to the forehead. He needed help. He needed ...

* * *

"Hermione!"

"Harry! Where on earth have you _been_?" Hermione screeched, after clobbering Harry with a bear-hug that Mrs Weasley would have appreciated.

"Well, you and Ron were, um, busy so I went out for a bit," Harry replied, awkwardly.

"On your own?" Hermione squealed.

"Well, in fairness, who would I have taken with me?"

There was a most un-Hermione-ish look on her face following this statement that Harry didn't know how to respond to at all.

"Oh Harry," she said softly. "I didn't think, I didn't realise -"

"Oh, it doesn't matter, don't worry about that now," said Harry, quickly cottoning on. "Like I said it's - you know - what you want and everything. I like seeing you happy. Besides, I'm not _that_ useless on my own."

"That's debatable," Hermione smirked. "I really am sorry, Harry. I suppose I didn't think how ... well ... certain things would affect you."

"That's surprising," said Harry lightly. "You should know by now just how badly I need you, Hermione."

"What do you -" Hermione began, flushing softly. But at that point, Ron entered.

"Harry, there you are! Getting lost a lot lately, aren't you? It's like you've forgotten all sense of time and direction."

"It's all this Apparating, mate," Harry grinned. "Messes with the mind."

Harry glanced at Hermione and was unnerved. He'd known her for six years, but in all that time she'd never looked at him like she was now. And they way she was chewing her bottom lip - like he was a new conundrum she had to solve - that was new for her, too. Harry didn't know what _that_ was all about, so he just ignored it when he spoke again.

"Right, I'm glad you're both here, I've got some important news," he said. They both leaned a little closer to listen. "I think I've made a breakthrough."

"Really?" said Hermione, suddenly alert. "What kind of breakthrough?"

"Well - and don't get too excited," said Harry. "I'm not even sure I'm right ... it's only a theory -"

"Out with it, Harry," Ron urged.

"Okay. I think I know what one of the Horcruxes is," Harry announced proudly. "What I need is your help ... to come up with some idea on where we might find it."


	3. The Flight

Hermione and Ron listened with expressions of mild excitement and doubt to Harry's theory on the Gryffindor related Horcrux. He talked fast and with little degree of fluidity, describing the discovery of the Gryffindor Shield counter curse and the subsequent train of thought which led to this point. Harry glanced up a few times at Hermione, whose eyes seemed laden with the same fear he had seen the night at Godric's Hollow and he knew she was less comprehending his ideas than wondering what an easy target he was making himself travelling alone all over the country.

When he finished they both sat in contemplation for a few moments. This infuriated Harry, who had expected a torrent of positive enthusiasm for his plan and congratulations for being so astute. This sort of response, however, was not forthcoming and later Harry wondered at his initial surprise. After all, he remembered, they hadn't been supportive of his suspicions against Malfoy last year, and he had been proven right on that occasion. It was one on those 'I told you so' moments that Harry was saving to bring up in just the right argument.

"I'm not sure about this, Harry," said Hermione, speaking first.

"What isn't there to be sure about?" he retorted.

"Well – it's a bit vague, isn't it?" she said. "I mean, his Uncle's ring – family connection; Slytherin's locket – family heirloom. These are trophies Voldemort would value. What makes you so sure – and don't jump down my throat at this, I'm just asking – that this is the Gryffindor trophy that Voldemort would value?"

"I wish you'd say You-Know-Who," mumbled Ron. "His name makes me queasy."

"Oh Ron, just get over it!" said Hermione. "He's our enemy now. Our personal enemy. I think we can drop the whole You-Know-Who malarkey. Me and Harry have and you should too."

"Well, that's you and Harry, isn't it? I mean -"

"You mean what?" said Hermione.

"I mean that Harry's _Harry_ , Chosen Boy Wonder and all that, and you – well, most powerful witch around for our age. What have I got against You-Know-Who compared to that?"

Hermione seemed satisfactorily flattered in spite of herself. Harry, though, was mutinous.

"So I take it that I can't count on your help then?" Harry said, riled.

"Well, it's not that, its just -"

"Oh I think it's just that," said Harry, his voice continuing to rise. "This is why I don't want you with me. All logic – logic and indecision. I don't need second guesses, I need to go for everything possible. I don't care if I have to destroy a hundred objects and ninety-nine of them are innocent so long as I get at least one Horcrux. If that's too much like hard work for you then fine, leave me to it. Go back to walking around like a couple of lovesick kids while I'm out saving your necks – again!"

Harry made to storm off but Hermione grabbed his arm. This was not a great idea.

"Get off me, Hermione!" Harry shouted. "If you don't want to help me then just get away from me. Leave me alone."

Hermione looked close to tears and Ron looked a mix of shocked at Harry's behaviour and angry at the way he'd treated Hermione. Harry thought about taunting Ron, but settled for giving him a hard stare before yanking free of Hermione's grip and storming into the garden.

Harry was too infuriated to think any more about his plan. Instead he leapt over the stile separating the Burrow garden and the big field where they played Quidditch and stormed around in the yellowing grass. He took his frustrations out on a colony of gnomes he stumbled over, taking each of the squealing little men in turn and spinning them around him like a hammer-thrower before sending them sailing into the air. He looked towards the Burrow several times and saw Hermione watching each time. _She's probably looking to make sure no rogue Death Eaters come and get me,_ Harry thought bitterly. He tossed his latest gnome further than any of the others before storming up the field and out of sight of the house.

It was dusk before Harry decided that his anger and frustrations had subsided enough to return indoors. He made little effort to move quickly, letting his wizard's cloak trail behind him. He had taken to wearing this cloak almost everywhere he went, simply because it looked cool and made him feel like someone impressive. He watched the deep orange sun fall slowly behind Stoatshead Hill in the distance, wondering vaguely what he would have to do to avoid conversations once he re-entered the Burrow. His thoughts still hadn't been able to settle on possible locations for the Horcrux but he was determined to give it a try, even if he had to do without his two helpers.

Harry was please to find the path to the stairs clear when he slipped in through the back door of the house. He scurried across the floor and took the stairs two at a time, ignoring a half-hearted call from Hermione who must have been waiting for him to return. There was a tone in her voice that suggested she knew her attempts to get him to stay would go unheard. Harry reached the attic bedroom and closed the door tightly before pulling off his cloak and shoes. He massaged his feet, which were a little sore after walking for hours on hard, rutted meadow ground. Laying back on his bed he looked around for his goblet. He spotted it on the dresser next to the door.

_"Accio Goblet!"_ He said pointing his wand, catching the pewter cup as it reached his hand. He aimed his wand into the goblet. " _Aguamenti!"_

The goblet filled with water and Harry drank greedily, realising how thirsty walking in the sun had made him. _I wonder what the charm for Fire Whiskey would be,_ he wondered. _Dumbledore made mead out of thin air at Privet Drive so it must be possible. Imagine - Butterbeer on wand!_ He made a mental note to look up such possibilities on his next jaunt to Hogwarts.

The night rolled in. Harry was still holed up, quite undisturbed and quite content to fume, in the attic room. He was reminded forcibly of a Christmas at Grimmauld Place where a similar situation had existed, except on that occasion Harry had done it believing he was likely to be overtaken by Voldemort and kill all those in his path. It was with an almost amusing sense of déjà vu that Harry heard a small knock on his door at around ten o'clock.

"I'm coming in whether you like it or not, Harry," said Hermione's voice through the door. "I'm only knocking in case you're changing, in which case you might want to make yourself decent."

Harry pretended to be immersed in the first book he could lay his hands on. He almost groaned in disappointment when he saw which one it was.

"Either you love that book so much you know it by heart," said Hermione coming in. "Or you're trying to hide from me, and doing a poor job of it."

Harry gave in and tossed aside _Flying with the Cannons_ as Hermione closed the door and made her way across the room. She was balancing a tray with some cold meat sandwiches, a goblet of frothy Butterbeer and a slice of Pumpkin Pie. It was the sight of food, and the accompanying rumble of Harry's stomach, that begrudgingly destroyed any protest he had to Hermione's presence.

"I brought you something to eat, as you generally try to go on hunger strike whenever you get your knickers in a twist," she said sitting down on the bed and smirking.

"I do not have my knickers in a twist!" Harry protested, reaching for the tray Hermione laid down.

"Well at least you admit to wearing them, which is a start," said Hermione, smirking even more.

"Oh, ha ha, very funny," said Harry. "Been thinking that one up all night, have you?"

"Yeah, did you like it?"

"No," said Harry, cramming a sandwich in his mouth.

"Oh well. Anyway, I think we should have a little talk about your temper, Harry," said Hermione, hitching up her knees.

"You do, do you?" said Harry with a gulp. "And I think we should have a chat about your loyalties."

"Meaning what?" she demanded.

"Meaning that you're either with me or against me," Harry answered. "I'm the one making the decisions and either you go with me on them or you don't."

"Oh, I thought you meant something else."

"What else could I mean?"

"Oh, come on, Harry. We both know that you aren't happy about Ron and me."

"What makes you think that?" said Harry, thrown by Hermione's briskness. "You're my two best friends. I'm happy for you."

"Really?" said Hermione raising her eyebrows. "What about all the 'you two do this' and 'you two go off there' comments? Nothing in them is there?"

"No, nothing," Harry said, though not quite meeting Hermione's eye.

"And what about all this running off alone? Is it really that hard to be around us?"

"I do find other things more comfortable, I wont lie."

"Like what?" Hermione pressed. "What's more comfortable than being around your best friends?"

"Um – the Cruciatus Curse?" Harry joked. "It isn't easy being around you two when you're like you are. For someone so clever I'm surprised you haven't worked that out."

"Worked what out?" said Hermione, hitching a starkly different look onto her face than she'd been wearing so far.

"That's its awkward for me to be around you," Harry replied plainly.

"W-why is it awkward for you?" Hermione asked uncertainly. Harry looked quizzically at her. "Well, either you don't like me and Ron being – er – closer, or you just don't like feeling excluded from something. Either way you're being silly."

"Do you think?" asked Harry.

"Yes, I do. Am I wrong?"

"Totally."

"I think I know you well enough to know your moods, Harry."

"I would have agreed with that once," said Harry. "Whatever happened to us?"

The look of mortification on Hermione's face threw Harry for a loop.

"What do you mean by that?" she asked quietly.

"Well, we used to be so close," said Harry. "Sort of on the same wavelength, you know? You used to know my mind; it got scary at times how much we seemed to automatically understand each other. But it hasn't been like that for a while now."

"Don't say that, Harry," said Hermione, her voice still small. She wasn't looking at him anymore, finding the quilt rather more interesting.

"Well, it's true. You were always there for me, always there to back me up or question me when I needed it. I suppose I am feeling a little isolated without that."

"You aren't isolated!" said Hermione hotly. "I'm still here for you. Both me and Ron are."

"That isn't true, Hermione," said Harry. "Not any more. And we both know it."

Harry got up and walked to the window. He was about to voice a thought he'd had in his mind for some time and wanted it to come out just right.

"I've made a decision," he said. "And I think it's best for everyone."

"What are you talking about?"

"I – I think I'm going to leave," said Harry, still watching the drifting clouds.

"What! Don't be stupid!" said Hermione.

"I think it's best," said Harry turning to look at her. "I have another place to go. And I think I'll be better off there. More with people tuned into what I'm doing. I think its time I went and lived in a house that I own."

"You're going to go _there_? On your own? Oh, Harry – I can't let you do that."

"It isn't your decision to make," he replied. He crossed to the bed and sat next to her, taking her hands. "You and Ron are no good to me like this. To be honest, I'm glad; I never wanted you to be involved in the first place. You're so wrapped up in each other that you won't be focused on what needs to be done. But I am. Add the wedding preparations and all in all this is the last place I should be. Plus, Voldemort and his Death Eaters will be looking for me now that Dumbledore's gone and the farther I am from you, the safer you'll be. All of you."

"No, Harry!"

Hermione threw her arms around him, knocking him back onto the bed. She was crying hard, harder than Harry had ever known her to. She was crying so hard that she didn't hear the door open. Harry saw Ron in the doorway and quickly dispelled his angry looks with a series of hand gestures. Ron nodded and intimated that he'd come back later. It was many more minutes before Hermione stopped balling, preferring to sob silently into Harry's chest.

"I can't b-believe this is happening," sobbed Hermione.

"I think it's for the best," Harry whispered into her hair, which was almost suffocating him.

"This cant be it, it just can't," Hermione said, as though she hadn't heard him. "It can't end like this."

"End?" said Harry. "What's ending?"

"You and me," said Hermione looking up. "You're going to go off and I'll never see you again. And even if I do, you won't be the same."

"Right little ray of sunshine, aren't you?"

"And what if you die? And there're things I haven't said to you? What then?"

"What things?" asked Harry. "You can say whatever you need to now."

"Oh, Harry – just hold me."

Harry hugged her tightly, feeling her fingers digging into his flesh. Her quiet sobs went on for some time before she eventually cried herself out. She had been asleep some time when Ron finally came back in. Harry put his finger to his lips and beckoned Ron to him. Ron crossed the room and bent down.

"I don't want to wake her," Harry whispered. "She needs her sleep. You're going to have to move her with magic. But do it slowly."

"Where's your wand?" Ron whispered back.

"Digging into my spine," said Harry grimacing.

Ron smirked and took out his own wand. Hermione drifted gently up allowing Harry to dart out from under her.

"Cheers, mate," said Harry gingerly rubbing his back.

"What was that about earlier?" Ron asked, lowering Hermione back to the bed.

"Oh, well," said Harry, thinking fast. He'd decided to just sneak out and let Hermione explain everything later. "She just cracked a bit, you know, all the strain of the war and that. She just had to let off some stress."

"Oh," said Ron, yawning. "Well, I gotta get some sleep too. Where are you going to sleep, Harry? If you don't want to wake Hermione you'll have to find a comfy bit of floor, unless you wanna go in with Ginny."

"Probably not a good idea," said Harry. "She isn't on best terms with me right now and I think you're mum might cook me for breakfast if she found me in there."

"Good point," said Ron.

"I think I'll try the sofa," said Harry. "I'll see you in the morning."

"Right-o," said Ron. "Just mind the left side, spring came out of it when mum sat down earlier."

Harry grinned and left the room, swiping his cloak when Ron's back was turned. He moved quietly downstairs, happy to find everyone in bed. He didn't fancy answering any awkward questions. Harry moved across the kitchen, stopping only to give Crookshanks a rub behind the ears.

"Goodbye, old boy," said Harry. He couldn't but think of Hermione's words, wondering if this was indeed the last time he would see the bandy-legged cat. He was thinking the same sorts of things as he threw on his cloak and silently left the house. Was this the last time he would see the Burrow? He crossed the yard and cast one last look up at the attic room. He took a deep breath, comforting himself that he knew what he was doing was for the best. Then he span quickly on the spot and vanished.


	4. Return to Number Twelve

Grimmauld Place had never been the most welcoming of locations even in the brightest of daylight, so it was positively unsettling by night. The little square in which the house sat was as run-down and filthy as Harry remembered it; a small patch of weed-strewn grass at the centre was encircled by an array of discarded chip papers, beer cans and other assorted litter. Underneath a graffiti-daubed wall at the far side of the square, a metal bin crackled with a fire lit inside, while pounding club music spewed out from one of the many part-derelict houses around the place.

Clutching his wand tightly inside his cloak, Harry stole across the square casting nervous glances in all directions. Number Twelve's shining serpent door knocker glinted in the dirty orange neon of the streetlight. He thought about knocking, wondering who would be inside to open up, and whether they would allow him in. He decided that, as it was his property, he didn't really care what they thought and reached for the knocker anyway. As he did, a sudden fizzing noise held his actions. He looked down to see a handsome brass case materialise out of thin air next to the twisted serpent.

Harry looked at it for some time. The contrast of the case to the Dark Arts preference of the house was not lost on Harry. He considered for a moment that it might be trap; perhaps, now that Dumbledore had died, the attributes which had made the house so appealing as a Headquarters were no longer in place. Was it still Unplottable? Was the Fidelius Charm now defunct as its caster was no longer living? Harry remembered that Sirius had once told him that most of the charms had been put on by his security-conscious father and that Dumbledore wouldn't have had any effect on them.

But what about the Fidelius, Harry thought. What if this house is a trap waiting for me? He realised then that the Order of the Phoenix must have a new leader, that although Dumbledore had been Secret Keeper that he surely couldn't have performed the charm on himself. Which led Harry to wonder who had cast the charm, and who they had approached to take it over in Dumbledore's stead.

Harry looked at the case and saw a small clasp holding a clear lid in place. Reaching down he unhooked the clasp and lifted the lid. Immediately, a shot of flame flew out of the box and when it died it left a piece of parchment floating in the air. Harry caught it, unfurled it quickly and read. The tight, loopy writing was undeniably familiar.

' _Hello, Harry. If you are reading this it can only mean that I have perished. I have placed this charm upon the door in readiness for this very event. It is a sign of my growing age that I had to steal an old idea of mine and re-work it. Novel ideas have been at a premium for me lately. You may remember in your first Hogwarts year that I performed a spell upon the Mirror Of Erised that allowed me to successfully hide the Philosopher's Stone to any but those who wished to find it but not use it. The spell I cast here is rather similar, except that this message could only appear to you and that only if you agree to the request within can anyone but you enter the house._

_"The request is thus: as master of the Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix you are automatically a member of the group. As we have established, I must be dead and the Fidelius Charm performed on me must also be dead. But here's where one of my most brilliant ideas has found a second use. This parchment contains a dormant Fidelius Charm as I used Fawkes flame to conceal it within the door. If you enter the house with the parchment then the charm will be awoken. If you burn it with your wand it will be passed onto you. I could think of no other who would be more trusted with such a secret as the one I have carried. If you choose to destroy the parchment outside or dispose of it before entering then the charm will void and the enemy will find us. It is, of course, a choice I leave to you._

_Your Eternal Friend,_

_Albus Dumbledore_

_P.S. to open the door merely tap it with your wand, it will open if it deems you to be a friend._

Harry was in no doubt about what to do. Folding the parchment carefully he took out his wand and tapped on the door as he had once seen Remus Lupin do. Harry heard the clicking and chinking of unlocking locks on the other side of the door. When these died down he pushed the door slowly open and moved inside. The corridor was pitch black, not a light in sight. Harry closed the door quietly, throwing himself into total blackness. He lit his wand and moved carefully forwards.

Keeping to the left hand side so as to avoid the trolls leg umbrella stand, Harry inched his way along the passage until he reached the door leading down to the kitchen. The house was eerily quiet and Harry was uneasy in the darkness. It was with a sharp pang of pity that he imagined what it must have been like for Sirius living here for a whole year on his own. No wonder he was so desperate to get out.

Harry edged down the narrow stone steps and into the kitchen. It was deserted and Harry wondered why he had expected anything different. There had been activity lately, though just how recent was impossible to tell. Harry bent down and lit a fire in the grate, sending a flickering orange light over the room. He remembered there being candles in one of the drawers and spent a good few minutes fishing them out and placing them in the candelabra on the table. After lighting these the kitchen was fairly well illuminated, though Harry doubted any amount of light could make up for the dirty, dingy nature of the place.

Harry took off his cloak and threw it over one of the chairs. The table still had several plates around it and Harry felt a bit peckish at the sight of them, wistfully thinking of the unfinished sandwiches and Pumpkin Pie left in the attic room at the Burrow. He wondered if Hermione had woken yet and realised he was gone and, if she had, how close she was to coming after him. He chuckled to himself and moved to the pantry.

There was a surprising amount of food there and Harry gathered up some bread and things to make himself a late snack. He also found a good stock of Butterbeer and took a few bottles with him to make a night of it. He didn't expect that he would sleep much, especially as it was the first time he had ever slept somewhere on his own. Despite his age, Harry felt rather nervous at the prospect.

He supposed this was due to the silence, and not just in the noise sense. Harry had always been aware of a kind of energy that came from being around people, a lingering presence that told you that you weren't alone. Harry was used to that from Hogwarts but also from the Burrow and even Privet Drive. He had never gone to sleep in a place he wasn't sharing with at least three other souls, and it was this sort of silence which was unsettling him.

He set about making his sandwich, amusing himself that the door would knock any moment bringing a white-faced Hermione or an assorted number of Order members to clamour for his attention. No such thing was forthcoming, however, so Harry settled himself down at the table and cracked open a Butterbeer. He read from the scattering of papers still on the table as he ate, looking at various maps and notes and plans. Some were old, including a rota of who was to guard Harry at various times; others were newer and contained names of suspected Death Eaters who were being watched. One, in a distinct swirly hand, had just one word: locket.

At the sight of Dumbledore's writing Harry's mind jogged itself. He reached inside his cloak and took out the parchment. He read it once more before placing the tip of his wand to it and setting it alight. It burned down to his fingers, but he didn't feel any heat as it reached them. As the last part curled and turned to ash, Harry felt a strange feeling inside, as though he'd just swallowed a block of ice. This, he assumed, was the completion of the charm and that he was now a Secret Keeper.

Harry thought about the other members of the Order, what they had made of being kept out of HQ and if they had tried to appoint other Secret Keeper after Dumbledore's death and if they knew why it couldn't have worked. Scanning over the other bits of paper and parchment Harry saw that it was mostly boring things with nothing much worthy of note. Finishing his sandwich, Harry cleaned up the plates and dropped them into the sink before tidying the papers and leaving them on a stool near the cupboard where the plates were kept. He decided that his first task in residence at this place would be to brighten it up and he was thinking about interior decorating prospects when he sat down and slowly drifted off to sleep.

A shaft of pale sunlight awoke Harry the next morning. He was stiff from sleeping on a wooden chair and his neck ached as he lifted it from his chest. Yawning widely, he got up and threw the remains of Butterbeer from his bottle down the drain. He pointed his wand at the sink and performed the 'Scourgify' charm, sending hot water streaming from the tap and setting a scrubbing brush hard to work on the plates.

Harry made his way back up to the hall and noticed that someone had encased Mrs Black's portrait in a cupboard, the door to which was laced with so many locks that it might have been guarding treasure. Harry looked at the moth-eaten carpet and decided that it would have to go. He was happy to notice that the mounted elf heads had been taken down and that all the furniture on the landing had also been removed. Harry continued his appraisal in the drawing room, which was bare save for a cabinet in one corner and a writing desk that had once contained a boggart. All other things, including the sofa and the curtains, had been removed.

As Harry visited every room he saw pattern emerge. The place had been made to feel less like a house and more like a sombre work space, which, Harry reminded himself, was probably the point. Still, if this was to become his home then it would have to be made to feel like one. Harry was having rare thoughts of creativity considering what he could to with the place and thinking how he could fit re-decorating around fighting Voldemort.

The knock he had been expecting came at a little after nine. Harry opened the door expecting Hermione to launch into a rant about how he dared to leave in the way he had. He was quite surprised, then, when instead of Hermione he found Remus Lupin standing in the doorway (he was not yet comfortable enough to call it 'my doorway').

'Good morning, Harry,' said Lupin pleasantly.

'Professor,' said Harry. 'What are you doing here?'

'Perhaps we can discuss it inside,' Lupin said. 'It might be best to be out of sight.'

'Oh yeah, of course,' said Harry. 'Come in.'

Harry stepped aside and allowed Lupin to pass before following him in. They made their way to the kitchen where Lupin shed his coat and sat down. He looked as ragged and threadbare as ever and Harry had a fleeting thought about what state the moon was in at the moment. Lupin, as always, looked like he could use a few square meals and a needle and thread. But his face was its usual warm self and he smiled at Harry as he sat down.

'I see you've become domesticated,' said Lupin looking around at the clean plates and the stacked papers.

'Yeah, well it was a bit messy,' said Harry.

'You're probably wondering how I know you're here,' said Lupin. 'Indeed, you've already asked me why I'm here and I've been a bit rude by not answering.'

'I was wondering about it,' said Harry. 'You haven't been to the Burrow, have you?'

'The Burrow?' said Lupin. 'No, not recently. Why? Have you left word there?'

'Um, not really.'

'Tell me that someone knows you're here, Harry?'

'I mentioned it to Hermione,' said Harry. 'But I didn't tell her when I was planning to come.'

'Really, Harry, you astound me,' said Lupin disapprovingly. 'You would have thought, especially in these times, that you would take a little more care with yourself. Your importance deserves more consideration than this.'

'You're actually sounding a bit like Hermione,' said Harry.

'Well, as long as someone has your best interests close to their heart,' said Lupin. 'It's just a shame you don't listen to her more. She's a bright girl.'

'You haven't got to tell me that,' said Harry. 'She's beaten me academically for years.'

'There's more to intelligence than academics, Harry.'

'I know that, and I know she tries to look after me,' said Harry. 'She just gets a bit too concerned for me sometimes. I need space to work at what I have to do. I'd hope that I wouldn't have to tell you how useless protection is for me these days.'

'You don't know that,' said Lupin.

'Voldemort only feared Dumbledore,' said Harry. 'Good witches and wizards have already been killed. Who do you know that could protect me from him? Of all the people around I doubt a seventeen year old witch would stand much chance, however good she is. I'd rather she stayed away and safe.'

'Actually, Harry,' said Lupin, 'someone like Hermione is _exactly_ who you need close. People who care for you above and beyond that which an average friend does will fight harder and with more force than anyone else. Don't forget the protection your mother's love gave you.'

'Yeah, I don't. But I wouldn't want Hermione to give me that kind of protection, I would rather she stayed alive.'

'That might not be for you to decide,' said Lupin. 'And you may not be able to keep her, or your other friends, safe. But in any case, I'm sure she would be willing to make that kind of sacrifice for you, and that's the sort of person you want to keep close.'

Harry, who was finding the whole conversation uncomfortable and the room surprisingly hot all of a sudden, changed the subject.

'So, if you haven't been to the Burrow, how did you know I was here?'

'We have our sources at the Order,' said Lupin. 'We have been waiting for that Fidelius Charm to be performed here and as soon as it was we were alerted.'

'Did you know that Dumbledore had planned this, then?' asked Harry.

'He told a few of us, not long before he died, actually,' Lupin replied. 'It was as though he was expecting it. The whole series of charms he performed were only done a month or so before his death.'

'So, why have you come then?' asked Harry.

'To see how you are,' said Lupin. 'I know how difficult it must be for you to come back here, so the very fact that you are must mean something negative. I can't imagine you coming here unless you really had to. So I thought I'd come by and make sure you are alright. Nymphadora thought you might need company.'

'How is Tonks?' asked Harry. 'Where's she stationed now?'

'At the Ministry, mostly. I like her being there with the other Aurors, safety in numbers, you know. Like you with Hermione, I'd rather Nymphadora was far away from any action. Also like Hermione, however, I don't think I could keep her away no matter how hard I tried. But back to what we were saying, is everything alright? You being here alone doesn't look good.'

'Oh I'm fine,' said Harry. 'I was just feeling a bit crowded at the Burrow. Loads of people, you know? Just wanted a bit of space to think. I feel a bit like the odd one out with everyone all focused on the wedding and stuff. This was the only place I could think to go. I thought I could be of use to the Order and help out in the war while I search for the Horcruxes.'

'The what?' asked Lupin.

'Didn't Dumbledore tell you? He thinks Voldemort divided his soul into seven pieces and placed them inside Horcruxes, objects that do just the job.'

'I didn't know that, Harry,' said Lupin. 'But it's an intriguing theory. I suppose that's why he didn't die the night he killed your parents – because all his soul wasn't killed.'

'That's right,' said Harry. 'Dumbledore reckoned two of them were destroyed already – Voldemort's Uncle's ring and the diary that got into Hogwarts in my second year. We went looking for a locket the night he died but someone got there first and said they destroyed it, but I want to make sure. That leaves another three to find before I go after the last piece which is still inside Voldemort himself. I reckon his snake could be one piece which leaves just two others and the locket.'

'And have you any ideas for the other two?' asked Lupin, rapt.

'One is linked to Gryffindor,' said Harry, 'and I found this counter-curse that talked about Gryffindor having a helmet that everyone identified with him. I think that could be one but I don't know where I'd find it.'

'That's good detective work, Harry,' said Lupin. 'I know the helmet you are talking about. He is said to have worn it in many famous battles but was parted from it before his death.'

'How? It might help me know where to start.'

'I'm afraid I don't know,' said Lupin, sounding frustrated. 'But Gryffindor did become something of a pacifist before he joined the other four Founders at Hogwarts. At a guess I'd say try to find out anything you can bout him just before he and the others formed the school and start there. His sword went with him to Hogwarts but the rest of his armour must have been left somewhere shortly before that took place.'

'That's a good idea, I think I'll do that,' said Harry.

'You get onto it, Harry, and I'll have a think myself. Unfortunately, I'm no great historian.' Lupin got up. 'I think its time I got on. I have business with the Order to attend to.'

'Okay, Professor, thanks for coming by.'

'No chance you'll stop calling me that?' said Lupin smirking.

'It'd be weird not to,' said Harry.

They made their way back down the hall and Harry opened the front door.

'I don't suppose you know anyine who's good at decorating, do you?' said Harry. 'I wanted to cheer up the place.'

'Afraid not,' said Lupin smiling. 'Living amoung werewolves leaves little room for home improvements. I'll have to be getting along, Harry. You take care of yourself and I'll be in touch soon. No doubt the Order will want to trespass on your property before long.'

'They can come as soon as they like,' Harry replied. 'Just so long as they keep me involved.'

Lupin chuckled and made his way down the steps and within a few yards had Apparated away.

Harry had barely sat down before the door knocked again. Suspecting that he knew who would be on the other side this time he went back into the hall and opened the door a second time. This time, his guess was right.

'WHAT IN THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU'RE PLAYING AT!'

Harry wasn't sure what was a greater shock; Hermione screaming at him was certainly a surprise, even though it wasn't wholly unexpected, but her tumbling backwards when she tried to enter the house was the last thing he – or she – expected.

'What is that?' she asked, getting up gingerly. 'Why cant I come in?'

'Oh yeah, I have to invite you,' said Harry, smirking and leaning against the door frame.

'Well go on then, invite me in,' said Hermione.

Harry looked at the mad look on her face. 'Can I trust you?'

'What?'

'Well, you look a bit crazy. If I let you in will you promise not to hit me or nag me?'

'I can't promise that,' said Hermione, the corners of her mouth twitching. 'Not after that stunt you pulled last night.'

'Then I'm afraid I cant let you in,' said Harry.

'Stop being so silly,' said Hermione. 'Let me in.'

'Nope, not till you promise.'

'Harry, this is childish.'

'I'm scared of you, Hermione,' Harry teased. 'You're pretty powerful, you know, and who knows what you might do when you're this angry. I could be left as something very nasty.'

'You will be if you don't let me in,' said Hermione. 'I'll wait here till you have to leave for food if I have to.'

'I'm well stocked in here so I hope you've brought a blanket.'

'Please, Harry.'

Harry buckled and invited Hermione in. She hadn't even got over the threshold before she threw herself at him. However, instead of the slap Harry had been expecting Hermione had thrown her arms around him and pulled him into a tight hug and Harry could almost feel the relief lifting from Hermione. He thought she would start crying but her voice was relaxed when she spoke.

'Do I need to tell you how worried I've been?' she said into his shoulder. 'I waited for an hour and a half when I knew you weren't at the Burrow for you to come back. I guessed you weren't going to after that and I hoped you'd be here. How many times have I got to tell you to let me know where you are?'

'You were asleep,' said Harry. 'And I did tell you what I was going to do. Speaking of which, why are you here? I thought I told you I didn't want you to come with me?'

'And I _know_ I've told you a million times I'm with you wherever you go.'

Harry broke the hug with Hermione and led her towards the kitchen. He sat down as Hermione filled the kettle and lit the stove.

'Have you eaten?' she asked briskly.

'Not this morning,' said Harry.

'You're useless, aren't you?' said Hermione, clicking her tongue. 'How do you plan to look after yourself when you get older?'

'Well, I'll just have to keep you around' said Harry smirking as Hermione put on a pan to cook some eggs.

'Pass me the bread, Harry,' said Hermione smiling back coyly.

Harry watched her slicing the bread and got up to lit the grill.

'Don't tell me you actually know how to use one of those?' said Hemione sardonically.

'I was the Dursley's slave for eleven years,' said Harry. 'I picked up a few things.'

'Oh, I forgot, sorry,' said Hermione solemnly.

'It's okay, it was ages ago,' said Harry.

'It isn't okay,' said Hermione dropping eggs into the water. 'It isn't okay at all. You've had so much bad done to you, so many people have been horrible to you and your life has been so hard that I don't think its okay in any way.'

'Bloody hell, Hermione, you sound like you're writing a Greek tragedy about me.

'Don't joke, Harry, I'm serious. Doesn't it bother you how hard you've had it?'

'Sometimes,' said Harry truthfully. 'But I can't do anything about it. And besides, things aren't that bad. I've got you making me breakfast, haven't I? What more could I want?'

'That's what I love about you, Harry,' said Hermione. 'No matter what happens you always seem to look ahead and make something positive out of it.'

'Is the same me we're talking about,' said Harry. 'Or have I got a twin I never knew about?'

'It's true. You've had more bad things happen in seventeen years than anyone should have to endure in two lifetimes. But you still manage to deal with it, still focus on what you have to do and still find time to make light of it. I'm so proud of you, you know?'

'Aww don't, I'm welling up,' joked Harry, who was again feeling the room heating up.

Hermione suddenly hugged Harry again and it was a good few minutes before she let him go and went back to cooking.

'What was that for?' asked Harry.

'Do I need a reason?' Hermione replied. 'Just sit down, Harry. But get some cutlery before you do.'

Harry obeyed and in no time at all Hermione was spooning eggs, toast and bacon onto the plate she's put in front of him. She served herself and sat down next to him.

'This is good, Hermione,' said Harry.

'Why do you sound so surprised? Didn't you think I could cook?'

'Honestly? No.'

Hermione laughed.

'I always helped my mum out at home,' Hermione explained. 'Plus my nan always had cookbooks around and you know I'll read just about anything.'

'Yeah,' Harry agreed, nodding vigorously. 'Anyone who can read _Hogwarts: A History_ a hundred and twelve times must find a cookbook practically entertaining.'

Hermione laughed again. 'Hark who can talk! How many times can you possibly read _Flying with the Cannons_?'

'It's a good book.'

'I don't doubt it, but really – how many times can you read about _Ron's_ favourite Quidditch team?'

'What do you mean by that?'

'Nothing insulting,' said Hermione in an almost bored voice. 'It's just that – well, Ron supports the Cannon's. They're his team, have been since he got into the game. But why are they yours, if they are? Have you ever seen them play? Do you feel some sort of affinity with them? Or is it to do with the fact that Ron likes them and they're the only team you know?'

'They are not the only team I know,' said Harry indignantly.

'Oh, really?' said Hermione. 'Name me another one.'

'Er, ooh – the Holyhead Harpies! Ha!'

'Not really difficult considering Slughorn's been going on about Gwenog Jones all tear, but I'll give you it. Another.'

'Um...those, er, Tornados ones.'

'What? Surely you don't mean the team _Cho_ liked? Not the team your first love followed? I can't believe you remember _them_!'

'Ho ho,' said Harry.

'Come on, another,' pressed Hermione. 'Or how about the winner of the league last year? Perhaps the top scorer? Name me the England Quidditch team. Who are the best Eurpoean team?'

'Ok ok, is there a point here?' asked Harry, exasperated.

'I'm just not sure you _like_ Quidditch that much,' said Hermione.

'Is that a joke?'

'I'm serious. Okay, you love playing at Hogwarts but apart from that you know very little about the game. You don't support a team, don't follow the national side, don't read about the sport in the _Prophet_. Would you really call yourself a fan?'

Harry hadn't ever considered it like this before. But now that he did give it some thought he had to say Hermione was right.

'Well...no, probably not. But what's this got to do with cookbooks?'

'Oh, nothing at all. I just wanted to beat you in an argument. It isn't good for you to get too big headed, Chosen One.'

Hermione smirked at him again and they continued their debate on whether he actually deserved to be called the Chosen One for quite a while. It was only after they had cleaned away their plates that Hermione did something unexpected, and well received by Harry.

'So, are you going to tell me your plans for finding this helmet thing you think is a Horcrux?'

'What? You actually believe me now?' said Harry rather stunned.

'I've been thinking about what you said and you're right, it doesn't matter what I believe, it's what you think that's important. And you believe in this, so, come on, any thoughts?'

Harry, so relieved to have someone to share this weight with, began talking. He filled Hermione in on all that had led him to this theory and then told her of Lupin's visit that very morning and his enthusiasm for Harry's plan. This, more than anything, seemed to sway Hermione's opinion.

'So Lupin had heard of this thing?' she asked.

'Yeah. Like I said, its famous.'

'It's not a place to start, his last wherabouts before Hogwarts,' said Hermione thinking. 'And I know some good books on that. Can you get us in to Hogwarts?'

'What? Now?'

'No time like the present,' said Hermione happily. 'See if you actually have some brains above that pretty little face of yours.'

'Flattery is an art, Hermione,' said Harry. 'And I don't think you'd pass it in an O.W.L.'

Hermione smiled. 'Come on. The longer we sit here the more time we're wasting.'

'Shouldn't we go and get Ron?'

'He was still snoring away when I left,' said Hermione with a trace of bitterness. 'Besides, I think we can both agree that research isn't his strong point, don't you?'

Harry laughed and got up, leading the way outside. Hermione followed behind and they made their way to a little alley running between the houses. It was high and dark and well concealed from prying eyes.

'On three?' Harry asked. Hermione nodded. 'One – two –'

Hermione gave him a little wink and Disapparated. _I guess we're even, then,_ Harry thought to himself as he, too, span on the spot and disappeared.


	5. No Work, No Play

The Hogwarts library was never the most welcoming of places during term time. Chilly and serene with an air of stillness created by the prowling Madam Pince, the place was usually about as much fun as History of Magic. But there was something different about it in these circumstances. Harry was starting to appreciate the veritable mine of knowledge and information here, all of which was available without having to worry about the strict Librarian screeching at you for bending the pages of an ancient book.

Harry and Hermione had been sat there for several hours. Dobby had been overjoyed to learn that Harry had come to Hogwarts for the day and he and the other house elves bustled about to and fro bringing them everything they could want. They brought a tray of coffee, pumpkin juice and a plate of sweet cakes barely ten minutes after they had arrived. Though Hermione looked shocked and pityingly at the elves (Harry thought he could see the words SPEW etched across her eyes) she found that either she fancied a cup of coffee or all the research they had to do demanded it and so she accepted their service. They, to an elf, bowed to the floor when they left, some so shocked that Hermione had said 'thank you' that they squeaked loudly and banged their long snouts against the hard floor.

Hermione only complained about the elf-enslavement for a few minutes, much to Harry's relief. The thought of her getting distracted and using the extra library time to look up new ways of freeing house-elves would, Harry decided, be a colossal waste of time. It wasn't long, however, before Hermione turned back to her task and had so many books tottering in front of her that Harry could only just see her eyes. She seemed to think being in the library without Madam Pince was wrong and chastised Harry for using a Summoning Charm to pull books down from a shelf.

'Harry, that is so irresponsible,' she hissed as _Wizarding Archaeology_ flew down from the fourth shelf behind them, nudging the two books either side precariously to the edge of the shelf.

'Oh, relax. Hermione,' said Harry. 'You're too wound up in here. You should try it, you might find it quite liberating.'

'Ho ho, very funny.'

'Who's joking? Go on, I dare you.'

A cheeky sort of grin crept into the corners of Hermione's eyes, a look Harry had found strangely disarming several times recently. She seemed to be debating it, much as though someone was considering how naughty it would be to have a second cream cake. Slowly, as though a fierce battle were raging in her mind, she drew her wand and pointed it.

' _Accio Hogwarts: A History!'_

The book flew to her, much more cleanly, Harry noticed, than his had. Hermione looked around guiltily as though expecting to be rapped around the head by a lurking Madam Pince at any moment.

'Do I have to remind you - again - that you can't Apparate inside the walls of Hogwarts?' Harry said sardonically. 'If you'd read that book you'd know that.'

Hermione took a swipe at Harry with the heavy book and he backed away in his chair to avoid it. She had another go; Harry chuckling at her efforts must have incensed her. She giggled as he dodged another blow then backed away as the book came back at him. The problem was he'd forgotten that he was already leaning his chair back onto two legs. As he swerved to avoid Hermione's attempt to clobber him the chair toppled back and Harry hit the floor. Hermione's giggles stopped immediately.

'Oh Harry!' Hermione yelped. 'I'm so sorry! I didn't mean that!'

Harry barely heard her. He was too busy laughing. 'That's what I get for making fun of you, I suppose. Help me up, will you?'

Harry grabbed Hermione's outstretched hand and she pulled him to his feet. The momentum carried him right up to her face and he caught his balance just before he hit her. They stood stock still for a couple of seconds and in that time Harry experienced two of the most bizarre and unsettling experiences of his life. They both happened in a fraction of a second when he caught Hermione's eye. The first was a chill, a nerve-jangling shiver, which shot through every part of his body and tickled his skin. The second was an electric charge which ignited along his old scar. It was this feeling which unsettled him the most as it was the only time he'd felt anything there apart from the burning pain associated with Lord Voldemort.

Shaking off a creeping awkwardness Harry sat down and pulled the nearest book towards him. Hermione stayed standing for a few moments longer and Harry wondered what she was thinking. She soon sat down and buried her nose in a book. After some minutes during which neither spoke, Harry got up to go to the bathroom. Once inside he looked in the mirror and considered his startled reflection.

What had that been, he thought. His scar looked normal; whatever had surged along it certainly hadn't changed its appearance. But why would his scar hurt when looking at Hermione? A terrible thought came to him - was she possessed? Had Voldemort somehow managed to get to her? Then he considered the event again and dispelled these thoughts; when he'd looked at Hermione his scar _hadn't_ hurt. It had done something but it wasn't painful. Harry sighed in relief.

That didn't solve the other puzzles though. Something had happened there and Harry didn't know what to make of it. Only one part of it was certain - Hermione had felt it too. Whatever it was that had thrown him for a loop had done the same to her. She'd stayed where she was when he sat down, perhaps to think over it as he was now. What did it mean? Harry chuckled to himself; the one person he'd want to ask for advice on something like this would have been Hermione but the thought of bringing it up with her now was quite unnerving. He decided to just push it from his mind and ignore it.

Returning to the library with his determination to press on at the front of his mind, Harry hurried back to his seat. He saw Hermione glance from the corners of her eyes as he returned but she didn't look up at him. Harry decided to break the ice before it formed.

'A-any luck?' he asked.

'Oh! No, not really,' she said, he voice higher than usual. 'You've been gone long. I thought you'd fallen in, or something.'

'Oh, was I?' said Harry, finding his voice oddly different also. 'Oh, it was Peeves, you know. He always likes playing jokes on me and I had him all to myself on the way back.'

'Ah, I thought it might be something like that,' said Hermione. There was an odd hint of smile at the corners of her eyes and mouth, as though she'd been expecting him to use an excuse like Peeves. This did little to settle Harry who was suffering a strange feeling of exposure in the soft light of the library.

The rest of the day was a bit of a waste of time. Harry was reading book after book and not really taking any of it in. Words swam before his eyes making unrecognisable patterns. Not only that but he suspected Hermione was having just as little success. Several times he chanced a glance at her only to find her eyes glazed, much unlike the focused reading gaze he was so used to seeing in her face. One time he thought he saw her catching him looking at her and pulled his eyes away quickly, but not before he saw her smile to herself.

It was when Harry found himself reading _Muggle Glues and Electricity Explained_ that he realised the futility of the situation. He slammed the book shut and gathered the other dusty volumes nearby to return to the shelves.

'Are we stopping?' said Hermione, looking up.

'Yeah, my head's turned to clay,' Harry said.

'Mine too,' Hermione replied. 'Perhaps we should take a few of these books with us, just in case we get a brainwave.'

'Should we leave a note?'

'No-one's going to be here for a couple of weeks. That's plenty of time to bring them back before anyone knows they're gone.'

'Okay but you pick the books,' said Harry.

Hermione busied herself choosing a few thick books and piled them on the desk as Harry played basketball with bits of scrap parchment and the wastepaper bin. When he heard Hermione magicking the books into thin air he knew it was time to go and swept the rest of the discarded parchment into the bin with one wave of his wand.

'Hey, Harry, that's really good!' said Hermione. 'You really have got the hang of non-verbals now.'

'Yeah, I've spent enough time on them,' said Harry. 'I was just going to vanish them completely but it was too much effort.'

They left the library discussing Harry's advancement in more difficult magic. Hermione already knew that he was getting better at Legillimency as she had helped him practice at the Burrow but she was impressed to learn about all the new defensive spells he'd learned and how just a bit of effort had wrought a general improvement in all areas of his magic.

'I always told you that all you needed was to try a bit harder,' said Hermione. 'You've got all the power in the world but you've always lacked a bit of focus. You're easily the most powerful wizard in our year.'

'Er, I don't think that's right,' said Harry reddening.

'Why not?'

'Um, have you forgotten yourself?' said Harry. 'You're miles better than I could ever be.'

'Me?' Hermione said, turning a shade of scarlet herself. 'Well, I won't deny that I'm _good_ but half of that is hard work. I bet that if you were buried in books as much as I was and spent all your time working like I do that you'd be above me in all our subjects. But that'd just make you too dull and you'd never be able to beat Voldemort. Millions of hours of reading would make you too predictable.'

'But I don't think you're dull and predictable,' Harry said. 'And all that work and reading means you know tons more than me. How many exams did you beat me in again? All but one, I think.'

'What have exams got to do with power?' said Hermione. 'Some people just don't do well in an exam situation. But you've beaten me in every important test. I'd have never had the nerve to stand up to Voldemort, and you didn't get knocked down when we went to the Ministry of Magic, you went looking for Voldemort again. I failed y- ... failed there.'

Hermione looked away and Harry swallowed hard. This was the first time she had spoken about that fateful night. Harry had often felt such guilt at the whole thing that he banished it from his mind. Not only was he ashamed of nearly getting all his friends killed he was also wracked with guilt for ignoring what they went through and focusing only on his own grief over Sirius. Now, here was Hermione bringing it up at last.

'I've never said sorry for that,' Harry said quietly. To his surprise, Hermione stopped walking and turned to face him. Harry couldn't meet her eye and looked towards Hagrid's cabin over her shoulder.

'What?' said Hermione briskly.

'What?' Harry repeated.

'What do you mean 'you've never said sorry'?'

'Which part don't you understand?' asked Harry.

'Harry - Harry, look at me,' said Hermione firmly. 'Why do you think you have to say sorry?'

Harry considered his next words carefully. 'Well, I nearly got you killed - all of you,' he added swiftly. 'If that doesn't merit an apology I don't know what does. You - you don't know what it was like.'

'What, _what_ was like?'

'When... when I thought you'd died.'

Harry turned away from her. He knew she was going to ask for an explanation and he felt he couldn't look at her if he had to give one. Then it came.

'Harry?' Her tone did all the asking.

'When I saw it happen it was kind of in slow motion,' Harry began. 'I can still see it now; the purple flame, you falling to the ground, me cursing the Death Eater before I could even think what was going on. The worst part was the little 'oh' you gave as it hit you. It cut to me like you wouldn't believe. The thoughts that went through my head still haunt my dreams, not that I had much sense at the time. I couldn't think, ask Neville, he was there. If one of the Death Eaters had come in then I couldn't have fought them off, I wouldn't have had the will. If you'd had died I would have followed you soon from the guilt.'

Harry heard a little sob and turned to see silent tears streaming down Hermione's face. Then, without warning, she threw her arms around him and hugged him so hard he struggled to breathe. He hugged her back, feeling as if a weight had been lifted from him. It was a while before either spoke.

'Oh, Harry, I can't believe you,' said Hermione eventually. 'Why didn't you ever say anything? Why don't you ever talk to me?'

'I don't know,' said Harry. 'I thought you blamed me for it. I thought that was why you were being so weird with me last year. There didn't seem much point talking to you about it when I thought you were so angry with me because of it.'

Hermione let out another impassioned groan and Harry thought this was probably the wrong thing to have said. Unsure of what to do he just waited for Hermione to speak again, half wondering how long they would be stood hugging in the Hogwarts grounds before this happened.

Hermione did disengage herself after a while. She set to wiping her eyes, muttering things to herself like 'pull yourself together' and trying to regain her composure. After watching her like this for a few minutes Harry thought he should say something.

'Are you alright?' he asked. The words felt dumb before they'd even left his mouth.

'No,' said Hermione. 'I think I'm quite far from alright.'

'Anything I can do?'

Hermione smiled. 'Stop being such a recluse, maybe? It might stop misunderstandings like this.'

'Like what?'

'I thought you were being funny with _me_ because of what happened at the Ministry,' said Hermione.

'Um, why would that be, exactly?' asked Harry, confused.

'I thought that you were angry at me that ... that I'd failed you. I know I was.'

Harry just stared at her, goggled actually. 'Hermione...' Harry didn't know what to say to this. Hermione took over.

'I know you were angry at the end of the year, I didn't know what to say to you,' she said. 'I wanted to help you but you were pushing everyone away. I thought you were mad at me for being too weak to fight until the end. I thought you might b...blame me for not being able to help Sirius.'

'Hermione!' Harry cried. 'Why would you think that? You were brilliant. You knew it was a trap by Voldemort and I was too pig-headed to listen to you. Then you got rid of Umbridge and you flew the Thestrals even though you don't like it. You were amazing. The best fighter I had, why do you think I pulled you to me when we got away from the Death Eaters the first time? Of all the people there I wanted you to be at my side. It was me that failed you, not the other way around. I wasn't good enough for you; wasn't good enough to work out that trap, not good enough to keep you all from harm, not good enough to save... I can't believe you blamed yourself for those things. It was my fault. I feel awful now.'

'Oh, don't!' Hermione pleaded. 'I don't want to make you feel bad. Oh dear, I've never been very good at this sort of thing.'

'Look, before we get too emotional lets just make up and move on,' said Harry. 'I'm sorry, really sorry, that you got hurt at the Ministry. I'm sorry I didn't listen to you in the first place - you're advice had never gotten me in trouble before so I should have remembered that then. You don't have to be sorry about anything because you did nothing wrong. I wasn't mad at you, I was mad at me. And Dumbledore a little, but lets forget that now. Let's shake hands and get over it.'

'Harry, when has a handshake ever been good enough for us?' Hermione asked, and then drew Harry into another hug. This one wasn't the bone-shattering bear hugs he was used to from her. This one was tender and intimate and then came the third shocking feeling Harry had experienced that day. For a second, a little longer than the feelings in the library, Harry felt a surge of jealously. Jealousy of Ron. He broke the hug quickly.

'Ok, that's done,' he said awkwardly. 'Let's go. Everyone will be wondering where you've got to.'

They walked out of the grounds and stopped outside, preparing to Apparate.

'What are you going to tell them?' Harry asked.

'Tell who?' Hermione replied.

'Ron and the others, when you get back to the Burrow,' said Harry. 'Where are you going to tell them you've been?'

'I'm not going back to the Burrow.'

'Then where are you going?'

'I'm coming with you to Grimmauld Place,' said Hermione simply.

'No, you're not,' said Harry. 'I don't think that's a good idea at all.'

'Why not?' asked Hermione.

'Where should I start?' said Harry incredulously. 'Firstly, everyone at the Burrow will be worrying about you. Secondly, I don't think Ron would be too impressed with you. Thirdly, Grimmauld Place is horrible- '

'Which is why you shouldn't be there alone,' Hermione interrupted. 'And points one and two apply to you as well.'

'I don't think Ron would have the same reaction to me staying at Grimmauld Place as he would to you.'

'Why not?'

'Hermione, seriously!' said Harry. 'You and me, alone, in an empty house. You think Ron would be pleased with that, do you? You are his girlfriend, in case you've forgotten.'

'And you're his best friend. Surely you don't think he'd think anything would happen?'

'This is Ron we're talking about,' said Harry. 'Suspicion and jealousy are his middle names.'

'Ron Suspicion Jealousy Weasley,' said Hermione. 'What were his mother and father thinking?'

'Hermione, I'm being serious,' said Harry sternly. 'I don't think this is a good idea.'

'Look, Harry, there is absolutely no way I'm letting you stay in that house alone, so don't argue. If Ron wants to be jealous then let him be jealous. There are more important things right now. I'm staying with you and that's final.'

'Fine,' said Harry admitting defeat. He smirked as he added, 'But no funny business!'

'No promises, Harry,' said Hermione suppressing a giggle.

They both Disapparated, reappearing outside Grimmauld Place. Harry led the way into the house, Hermione close behind. They made their way into the living room on the first floor where the books from Hogwarts were already neatly stacked. The sight of them jerked Harry into the realisation that Hermione had planned to return here all the time. He felt uneasy; for the first time since he'd known Hermione he didn't know what to expect from her. One thing was for sure, he didn't like the uncertainty one little bit.


	6. Horcrux Number Four

Harry awoke the next morning to find Hermione's bed empty. Neither had fancied the idea of sleeping in the bedrooms, cold and draughty despite the summer weather. Instead, Hermione did a clever piece of magic to move two of the mattresses into the living room and enchanted them to add a little more fluffiness to them. She seemed to love her alterations but after Harry was enveloped by his mattress he asked Hermione to give him something a little more sensible to sleep on.

They had stayed up late into the night, talking mostly about what sort of things the Horcruxes might be and what they would choose as theirs if they decided to go evil and on a wizard jihad. They cooked themselves a very basic dinner made up of a variety of things in the pantry, which Harry discovered hadn't been as well stocked as he'd first thought. They finally went to sleep at some early hour discussing Dumbledore's theory that love would be the thing that killed Voldemort, and Harry's theory that Dumbledore should have put his faith in a good old fashioned club to do the job.

Waking to find Hermione's bed empty, Harry assumed she was downstairs cleaning the plates from last night or perhaps even preparing a surprise breakfast for him (Harry had noticed how domesticated Hermione was). Getting up Harry cast a glimpse at his unmade bed and made a note to tidy it later. When raised voices from the hall met his ears all thoughts of doing chores to achieve domestic felicity with Hermione left him. Moving to the door he edged it open and listened.

A blazing row was in full flow in the hall downstairs. One voice was Hermione's but the other, and more angry, voice belonged to Ron. Harry cringed. He tiptoed to the top of the stairs, careful to keep himself out of view. Ron was livid, yelling and shouting and it sounded like he was still outside. Harry remembered the protective charm on the house and realised how the situation must seem to Ron. Putting his ear over the banister, Harry listened in.

'Ron, you've got this all wrong,' Hermione was saying. Her tone suggested she had already said this several times.

'I don't think so!' Ron yelled. 'I think it looks pretty clear what's going on here.'

'Of course, and as usual you've put two and two together and come up with five. You really are being ridiculous, Ron.'

'Yeah, that's right,' Ron spat. 'Always stupid, aren't I? Stupid, dumb Ron who doesn't matter. Well, not this time – I'm on to your game.'

'There is no game!' Hermione protested.

'You must think I'm a total idiot!'

'You're certainly acting like one.'

'Oh, so now I'm an idiot, too?' said Ron.

'I don't believe we are even having this discussion,' said Hermione. 'I didn't think you'd be like this. Harry said you might, but I thought you would be more mature.'

'Oh I bet he did,' said Ron acidly. 'I bet you've done lots of _talking_ holed up here together.'

'Ron – we are not _holed up,'_ said Hermione.

'Then what do you call this?' Harry heard the fizz of Ron touching the magical barrier.

'I've told you twice that Dumbledore put that enchantment on the house.'

'A likely story.'

'Only Harry can invite you in. If he doesn't you cant enter. Not even Voldemort could get in. Oh, for _Merlin's_ sake, Ron, stop cringing.'

'So, I'm a coward too, eh? I'm wondering why you went out with me at all.'

'You know, I'm starting to think the same thing.'

There was a pause, a silence in which Harry felt the strongest urge to throw himself over the banister and stop what he knew was going to happen next. Something quite out of his conscious control kept him rooted to the spot.

'W-what does that mean?' Ron asked, his voice much different. Hermione, though, was as steely as ever.

'What do you think it means?' said Hermione. 'Is this what your idea of a relationship is? I've had closer bonds with friends than we have right now.'

'Oh, and I suppose that friend is Harry, is it?' said Ron, angering again. 'Typical, isn't it? The first thing I get that Harry doesn't have and even that prefers him to me.'

At the top of the stairs Harry tried to catch a groan at Ron's lack of tact. He failed, though, and held his breath to see if he was heard. Nothing happened and Harry sighed in relief. He shook his head at Ron's choosing the exact wrong thing to say.

'So that's what I am to you?' Hermione asked. 'A thing? A _that_? A trophy to shove in Harry's face and say, "Look at what I've got that you don't?"'

'No, that's not what I - '

'Oh, I think it's perfectly clear what you meant, Ron. You couldn't have made yourself plainer. I don't know what I was thinking. You haven't been brewing Amortentia, have you? Oh, of course not, you wouldn't have the faintest clue where to start. You haven't been stealing any of Ginny's, have you? I know she's been testing them on the public for Fred and George's joke shop.'

Harry caught his breath again. No, she wouldn't have...would she?

'I haven't been using any love potions!' Ron said sounding scandalised.

'Ah well, I just thought you might,' said Hermione sniffily. 'Just answer me one thing – did you ever want to go out with me for that reason, or was it always to get one over on Harry?'

'Of course I liked you, I've told you that,' said Ron. 'But I should've known that I was never going to be enough for you. Just look how you've shacked up with Harry the first chance you got.'

'Shacked up!' Hermione laughed. 'Hardly.'

'Well you're clearly Harry's girl through and through, seeing as how you abandoned me for him. I am supposed to be your boyfriend and I should have had you with me.'

'And I should have had more self-respect than to let you treat me like your property,' said Hermione. 'I may be a trophy to you but this is one prize you are never going to _have,_ in any way.'

'And Harry will, I suppose?'

Harry could imagine the look on Hermione's face but nothing prepared him for the next answer.

'Well its like you said – I'm Harry's girl through and through. And whatever he needs me for I'll do it for him... _anything._ '

'Hmph! I always knew you were a bit of a slapper on the ins -'

SLAM! The door smashed shut, shaking the whole house. Harry got up quickly and made to tiptoe across the landing and back to the living room, in case Hermione came storming up in a rage. As it turned out, Harry hadn't been as stealthy as he'd thought.

'You can come down now, Harry,' Hermione called up the stairs. Harry froze at being caught out, but was relieved to hear that she didn't sound angry. This, he supposed, was because of the upset she must be feeling. The thought of her being upset was enough to make him traipse guiltily downstairs, if only to try and offer some words of comfort.

'Sorry,' he mumbled as he faced her at the foot of the stairs.

'How much did you hear?' she asked in a business-like manner.

'Quite a bit,' said Harry honestly.

'I hope we didn't wake you.'

'What? I think there are more pressing issues than if you woke me up, Hermione.'

'Are there?' she asked.

'Are you okay?' said Harry, bemused by her calmness. 'Do you want to sit down?'

'No, Harry, I'm fine,' said Hermione. 'Does that sound awful?'

'It sounds weird,' said Harry. 'Are you – I mean, is it over? You and Ron, I mean.'

'Yes, yes I think so,' said Hermione simply. 'What does that say about it?'

'Not much.'

'The truth is that I could see we were starting to go nowhere,' said Hermione. 'It wasn't like at the beginning.'

'You've only been together two months, if that!'

'Precisely, not exactly a good omen, is it? The funny thing is, I'm not that upset. I think that tells its own story.'

Harry stood awkwardly, not quite sure what to say next.

'You were right, Harry,' said Hermione. 'You knew how he'd react. I didn't see it.'

'Oh, come on,' said Harry. 'You must have known he'd be a little miffed at you, at us.'

'That was more than a little,' said Hermione.

'I don't like being the cause of your break-up,' Harry blurted out. 'I don't want to be the one who's come between you. Its makes us look really bad; I bet lots of people will think like Ron and tongues will wag.'

'Oh hang them, let them talk,' said Hermione.

'But I know how much those Rita Skeeter articles annoyed you; you remember, the me-you-Krum love triangle. I don't want you upset again by that sort of thing.'

Hermione gave him an odd sort of look that Harry had never been given by her before; he didn't know how to read it.

'I'll just have to live with it, wont I?' said Hermione chirpily. 'I meant what I said to Ron – I'm your girl through and through. I'm at your side when you need me, and you need me now. So I'm staying where I am. If that means a few rumours then fine. We've been through more than that – as well as that sort of thing - before. I'm sure we'll get through it again.'

Harry felt an unsettling stirring in his stomach and wanted to bat it away.

'Are you ok? Feeling alright?' said Hermione noticing Harry touch his abdomen.

'What? Oh, yeah, I'm fine. Just a bit peckish,' Harry lied.

'Then its time for breakfast,' said Hermione brightly. 'And if I remember correctly it's your turn to cook.'

Hermione swept away, casting Harry another odd glance over her shoulder. Words like 'flirty' 'sultry' and 'seductive' were running through his head. These were words he had never thought of in relation to Hermione and it felt alien to have them paired together. Despite this unfamiliar feeling, Harry wasn't experiencing revulsion at it. It was almost more unsettling that he found these new sensations quite enjoyable.

The day was understandably strange. The white elephant in the room had quite the presence and followed Harry and Hermione everywhere. After breakfast (which Hermione awarded Harry an 'exceed expectations' for) they hit the books hard, in an effort to avoid the burning topic. The renewed vigour offered just as little success as the day before. There were vague and patchy references to the Gryffindor armour in many books, but mostly just as part of poetry or retold folk tales.

Harry, for his part, couldn't focus on the Horcruxes just then.

Hermione's demeanour troubled him, adding to the heavy worry he was already feeling for being the reason for her break-up with Ron. They had been getting on so well, or so it looked from the outside. It all seemed too odd, to have snapped so easily. Harry was dying to ask about it, and sometimes he thought Hermione wanted him to. There was something in her eyes, a searching look, and the words were on the tip of Harry's tongue several times before he snapped them back. Hermione's brow was constantly furrowed, worry lines crossed her face and Harry didn't like seeing her upset. But there was something else, a snagging sensation he just couldn't shake. It held him back from offering overt comfort to his best friend.

He found himself a little _pleased_ by what had happened. What did that mean?

It was great to have Hermione around again, focused on him, that was for sure. He felt a an odd sense of possessiveness to have her back at his side, and on it. It was as if Ron had taken her away from him and Harry felt a touch resentful towards his friend for it. He didn't like thinking that. But he was trying not to think too deeply on any aspect of the situation. It stirred up a strange, nervous fluttering that he'd swatted away many times over the years. It was as if the topic was just too dangerous to let into his conscious thought.

But he couldn't let the weirdness go on forever, and in the evening he succumbed. He and Hermione were sat in the living room close to the fire. It seemed that summer had no impact on Grimmauld Place at all. It was quite as dull and draughty as winter. Hermione was studying the dancing flames, as though trying to divine from their shifting shapes. Harry was watching her, mindful to not be caught in the act of doing it. That would be naughty.

'Knut for your thoughts?' Harry offered, breaking the long silence.

'Hmmm? Sorry, Harry. I was miles away.'

'Somewhere nice I hope,' said Harry. 'Anywhere would be better than here.'

Hermione gave a half-smile. It was half a grimace too. Harry knew what was on her mind.

'Do you want to talk about it?' he asked. 'You and Ron I mean. I can see you're upset by it. I know your looks. I don't like it.'

Hermione smiled, properly this time. 'Would you be okay talking about it? I would have thought it would make you really uncomfortable. I don't want that.'

'And I don't want to see you unhappy. I'm here to talk, if you need to.'

'I just...I don't want you to judge me, Harry.'

Harry started at this. 'Hermione - when would I ever judge you? What a thing to say!'

'I know, in most things, you wouldn't,' said Hermione, her voice small and quiet. 'But this is Ron. He's your best friend. I don't want you to think badly of me. I just couldn't stand it.'

'Can I tell you something privately?' asked Harry.

'Of course. I've always loved being the one Harry Potter can tell his secrets to.'

'I don't know which Harry Potter you're mocking, Hermione, but I have always trusted you. Probably more than anyone.'

'I'm just teasing you, Harry,' said Hermione gently. 'What were you going to tell me?'

'Just that...Ron isn't my best friend. _You_ are. Have been for a while.'

Hermione looked shocked and her cheeks were tinged with pink. 'I - I am?'

'You're more important to me than Ron,' Harry went on. He would think later he was being quite brave in the moment. 'I've hated not having you around like I used to. Its soppy, but I've missed you. There, I said it. So if you need to talk about Ron, however awkward or bad, I'm here for you. I can almost 100% promise to be on your side. And I will never think badly of you.'

Hermione definitely blushed now. Her cheeks were crimson.

'But it sounds so _awful,_ Harry!' Hermione cried passionately. 'You will despise me, I'm sure of it.'

'Nothing will make me despise you. If you don't want me to say anything, just listen, I can do that, too.'

Hermione gave Harry such a tender look at that moment that he felt his heart take a misstep.

'Well, its just that...I- I've been trying to find a way out. Almost since the beginning.'

Hermione had been bundling this up, Harry could tell. He looked at her encouragingly. She could let it out. It was safe here.

'It wasn't like I thought it would be,' Hermione went on. 'I expected it to be different. Maybe it was just the timing. When Ron approached me after the funeral, we were still all raw about Dumbledore. I needed something and I genuinely thought Ron could provide it. We'd been skating around each other all year - you saw that - and I just thought to give it a go. I knew Ron liked me, and I suppose I was flattered when he asked me out.'

'But didn't you want to go out with him?' asked Harry. 'I always assumed you did.'

'I've always cared for Ron a great deal,' said Hermione. 'I wasn't sure it was enough when he asked me out, if I'm being honest, but I assumed it would all just fall into place once I was his girlfriend. And even if it didn't, we could work at it, get over the awkward stage from being friends to boyfriend and girlfriend. People do it all the time.'

'But it didn't?' asked Harry. 'Fall into place?'

Hermione shook her head. 'After the first few days of getting used to it, I thought it would feel better. But it didn't. We barely spoke when we were alone, and it was so awkward I can't tell you. Even _other things_ didn't make up for it, though it gave our mouths something to do, to avoid talking.'

Harry was struck with an odd sensation. The image of Hermione and Ron kissing repulsed him. He couldn't work out why. It just did.

'I knew really quickly that I'd made a horrible mistake,' Hermione continued. 'But I didn't know what I could do. I didn't want to upset Ron, but how could I tell him that when he touched me it made my skin crawl? That when he kissed me my stomach twisted into knots of nausea? It was like being with my brother and I understood then that that was the sort of affection I had for Ron. I'd misread it. Can you imagine what that felt like, Harry?'

'I'm trying not to,' Harry replied, truthful but maybe not for the same reasons. 'But why stay with him for all this time if you were so unhappy?'

'I hoped it would improve,' Hermione replied. 'Besides, I know Ron is a good, loyal guy. He upsets me sometimes but he doesn't mean it. I could do a lot worse. I thought I could learn to be content with it.'

'Content? Hardly a good basis for a relationship.'

'Maybe not, but its better than nothing.'

Harry frowned at Hermione's tone. 'Now what do you mean by that?'

'Oh come on, Harry,' said Hermione. 'I'm not exactly flush with friends and admirers, am I? You and Ron were the first real friends I had. I wasn't exactly popular before Hogwarts either, you know.'

Harry had never really thought about that, about Hermione's past. As it occurred to him now, it seemed a deplorable lapse on his part, and he felt a poor excuse for a friend as he dwelt on it.

'It kind of leaves boyfriend possibilities a little thin on the ground. It'd depress me if I thought on it too long. Plus, we both know I'm no oil painting.'

"Meaning what?' Harry didn't like where Hermione was going with this, though he thought he could probably guess. He found he didn't like the notion one bit. He was working hard on his counter argument even as Hermione started speaking again.

'Just that I know I'm hardly anyone's idea of attractive. I accepted that a long time ago, so don't fret. I know you're sweet enough to. But I have eyes, Harry.'

'You might want to get them tested, then.'

Hermione looked a little surprised at this. 'Come on, Harry. A bookish, plain, bossy, frump? I can't see anyone replying to that Lonely Heart ad.'

Harry found the idea of Hermione's _lonely heart_ horribly painful, and disliked it far more than he thought he should. But he could attend to that later.

'You are none of those things, Hermione,' said Harry firmly. 'Well, bookish maybe, but what's wrong with that? I'll have you know I find intelligence _extremely_ attractive. And its one of your qualities I admire the most. You are, frankly, amazing in that department.'

Hermione made to reply but her open mouth gave only an odd sort of squeak. She clapped her hand to her mouth. It was like in first year, when Dumbledore rewarded her for her cool logic under pressure.

'And as for purely physical terms, I don't understand where you get this 'plain' nonsense from. I've always thought of you as pretty. _Very_ pretty, now we're talking about it.'

'Y-you have?' said Hermione. There was something very girlish in her tone. Harry found it unusually disarming. 'Since when?'

'I couldn't tell you from when, I suppose I just always have. Ever since I knew what a pretty girl was, or appreciated it, I've always classed you as one. Except for the Yule Ball. You weren't pretty that night.'

Hermione's face dropped in anguish. 'I wasn't? But I liked my dress and things.'

'So did I,' Harry grinned. 'You're missing my meaning. You weren't pretty, you were downright _stunning_.'

Hermione gasped aloud at this. Harry closed his eyes to remember. It was, after all, a lovely memory.

'I remember you entering the Hall. We all expected Krum to go with a beauty 'cause of who he was. And he didn't disappoint. When I clocked that it was you, my jaw dropped. Took my breath away in fact. I knew you were pretty, but to see you dressed up like that, looking drop dead gorgeous, was something else. Poor Parvati, she kept trying to pull my eyes off you to look at her. Fat chance. You were the best looking girl in the room.'

'But...I mean...why didn't you ever tell me this?' asked Hermione. She looked like she didn't know how to be. She was fidgeting and bothering the arm of her chair with her fingernails. It was amusing to watch.

'What was I supposed to say?' said Harry fairly. 'That I look at you inappropriately from time to time? I'm sure you'd have loved that. I could have thrown in a request for a more revealing hemline just to guarantee a slap!'

Hermione laughed at this. It broke the strange tension that Harry hadn't noticed forming, until suddenly it wasn't there.

'Okay, but you could have said _something_ ,' said Hermione. 'I don't know any girl who would turn down a compliment like that. Especially from you.'

'What do you mean by that?'

'Don't play coy, Harry, you know you're a bit dishy.'

'Now that's not something _you've_ ever told _me_!'

'Not true. I told you last year that you'd never been more fanciable after the Chosen One stuff. I didn't think I needed to tell you that you were pretty fanciable already. A lot of others already had.'

'But I value your opinion. More than anyone else's, I think,' said Harry. Hermione's blush was now so furious Harry was mildly concerned. 'It would have been nice to hear it from you.'

'And would that have been any less awkward than you saying...well, those things about me?'

'Yes, because I'm crass and vulgar and you are all kinds of lovely. I definitely don't deserve someone like you admiring me. But I'm a selfish boy - I'll have as many impure thoughts about you as I like, with no right to objectify you in that way, but I'll do it all the same. Its just a failing in the species. Beautiful girls just bring it out in a boy.'

'So...you...you think I'm beautiful?'

Hermione's tone had become silky soft. It was like music. Harry found himself wanting a concerto.

'Haven't I already said that?' he replied. His heart was beating quite a lot harder than Harry felt it ought. 'After that Yule Ball I knew that I had quite a stunning best friend, even if she preferred to hide it. So, can we please just drop this idea that you are 'plain'? Its simply not true. To me, anyway. If it makes you happy to believe it, then fine. I'm not going to challenge a girl's opinion on herself in case I get accused of chauvinism. But just know that I think you are extremely pretty. I find you very attractive.'

Hermione looked slightly punch drunk. She turned back to the fire, grinning widely to herself. Harry found he enjoyed the glow it diffused across her features. Who would have thought telling the truth could make someone so happy?

The next few days were much more pleasant. Hermione seemed to be on some sort of dreamy plateau. Harry caught her staring into space several times with a secret smile on her face. He had never seen her looking so distracted. It was odd, but strangely pleasurable. He was struck by the odd comparison he kept making between her and Luna Lovegood, though he couldn't for the life of him think why Hermione would suddenly have become as away with the fairies as his eccentric little friend.

For his part, Harry found his frank discussion about Hermione's attractiveness had stuck with him. He found himself oddly noticing the sway of her waist, the swell of her hips, the shape of her breasts. He had noticed these discreetly before, of course, but he found his gaze drifting to them now more often than he knew they should. He calmed himself that it was natural, as they were so isolated, but it was hardly suitable friend behaviour. It was just so hard to _not_ notice, especially when he couldn't shake the feeling the Hermione was exaggerating these aspects on purpose.

Three days after the break up with Ron, Hermione and Harry were taking a working lunch while still ploughing on with the increasingly fruitless Gryffindor Horcrux research. After all Harry's initial enthusiasm he couldn't help but side with Hermione as time dragged on. It was starting to feel less like a Horcrux every day. Eventually, Harry cracked with the frustration.

'How can this be so hard!' he cried, throwing a book down. 'If you were an old wizard and you couldn't fight anymore, where would you leave your suit of armour?'

'How many wizards do you know that actually wear armour, Harry?' said Hermione fairly.

'I agree that its gone out of fashion, but that isn't the point right now.'

'Gone out of fashion?' Hermione laughed. 'I don't think they were ever in fashion!'

'They must have been,' said Harry. 'Have you seen how many suits of armour we have at Hogwarts...'

Harry paused, his words hanging in the air. He and Hermione looked at each other, the thought coming to them both at the same time.

'Harry – you don't think - '

'It can't be...it can't be that simple.'

'Harry, Harry it might be,' said Hermione suddenly excited. 'I don't know, I cant be sure.'

'Of what?'

'Harry, there _aren't_ that many suits of armour at Hogwarts,' said Hermione. 'There are a few down at the dungeons, and a couple outside the Transfiguration rooms and that one on the West staircase under that painting of Reeking Ruprict of Rochdale. But there is only one more. If I'm right its in an older style than the others. I bet I don't have to tell you where it is.'

'At the top of the staircase to Gryffindor Tower!' said Harry. 'I really don't believe this. I amaze myself at my own stupidity sometimes. Why didn't I think of the school?'

'You just did,' said Hermione placatingly. 'Come on, lets go.'

Harry had his cloak on in a flash. He dashed after Hermione who was already on the way downstairs. She halted at the door.

'I hope Ron isn't still outside,' she said.

'I doubt he is,' said Harry. 'He wouldn't have waited this long.'

'I was going to,' said Hermione, blushing a bit, 'when you weren't going to let me in. I thought you gave in a bit easily there, Harry.'

'I tried to be forceful, but I couldn't,' said Harry. 'You must have this special magic over me. I could never say no to you for very long.'

'I'll keep that in mind,' she said, blushing furiously now. She yanked open the door and skipped into the morning.

The bright light dazzled Harry as he followed Hermione outside. Shielding his eyes he darted after the silhouette in front of him towards the little alley he knew it was heading for. The sun blinded Harry so much that he hadn't properly judged how far Hermione was ahead of him, skidding into her as she stopped abruptly.

'Now, now, Harry,' she teased. 'I am on the rebound, you know.'

Harry chortled. 'Just Apparate will you?'

'Fancy trying side-along Apparition?' she joked.

'I'll 'side-along' you in a minute!' said Harry.

'Maybe later,' said Hermione and with a wink she Disapparated.

Following suit Harry span around, emerging outside the Hogwarts gates, which Hermione was already through. She called back to him to hurry up. Jogging slightly to keep up Harry joined Hermione and they made their way to Hagrid's hut. Apologising for not having the time to have tea, Harry pulled the Hogwarts keys from a nail behind the door and took off again. The heavy lock was hard to turn but a bit of magic from Hermione did the trick and they were vaulting the Main Staircase in no time.

'Wait, Harry, I've got a stitch!' cried Hermione, who had lagged behind.

'You get up here in your own good time,' Harry called back. 'All this Apparating has made you unfit!'

Harry continued on alone. He topped the staircase, turned down a short corridor and was soon facing the Fat Lady's portrait. She was absent at the moment and Harry wondered briefly if she was off drinking so early in the day. Pushing such futile thoughts from his mind he took off down the corridor. It wasn't long before he reached his destination.

Half way along the corridor, lit by shafts of pale light from the high windows, Harry stopped in front of an antique suit of armour. Harry marvelled at how he had never noticed the unique condition of this piece of armour when compared to the shiny suits elsewhere. This was it, he knew it; the Horcrux, a piece of Voldemort's soul standing right before him. How didn't Dumbledore know?

'Is...this...it?' Hermione panted as she joined him.

'Only one way to find out,' said Harry reaching for it.

'Harry!' Hermione yelled as she reached out and snatched his hand from the air.

'What?'

'You can't just grab it,' said Hermione shrilly.

'Why not?'

'Think about it,' she said. 'All of the other objects had self-defence mechanisms. The diary had enough power to let Voldemort control anyone who used it. The ring killed Dumbledore's hand and getting the locket was what weakened him enough to stop his fighting the Death Eaters when he died. These things are dangerous and I don't want you to...well, I just want you to be careful.'

'If it did belong to Gryffindor it will have his name on it, like the sword does,' said Harry. 'I'm just going to look at it.'

Harry had tried to sound calm but he was filled with trepidation as he reached for the helmet. It wouldn't budge. He pulled with all his might, but it didn't move an inch. Harry lit his wand and looked around the armour. He had almost given up when he bent down and looked at the midriff area. There, at the level where a belt would be, were the exquisitely carved letters of Godric Griffindor's name.

'Well, that confirms it,' said Harry. 'Now what?'

'It has to be destroyed,' said Hermione in a whisper.

Harry raised his wand and said a spell. Hermione's call of caution had barely echoed away when Harry's spell hit the suit of armour and flew off its chest, bouncing around the corridor. Harry threw himself at Hermione, knocking her back against the wall and pinning her tightly in place. The spell died away.

'That wasn't bright,' said Hermione slightly breathily. She tilted her head up. 'Harry...'

'Mmmm?'

'Anytime you want to let me go is fine,' she said, still huskily. Harry could feel her shiver against him.

'Oh, what? Sorry...sorry, Hermione,' said Harry, quickly backing away.

'Its okay,' she giggled. 'Just don't do that again.'

'Yeah, I'm sorry. I didn't realise how hard I was pressing you into the wall.'

'I-I meant the spell, Harry.'

'Oh, yeah...that was stupid too.'

Hermione was blushing, Harry could tell even in the shadows. His own face was on fire. He turned to consider the suit of armour again.

'I take it there are anti-spell charms on it,' said Hermione thoughtfully, her voice not quite as steady as her words.

'Then how else can we destroy it?' said Harry. 'Melt it down?'

'I think we have to draw the magic out somehow,' said Hermione. 'Ginny wrote in the diary, Dumbledore wore the ring...'

The realisation dawned on Harry as Hermione thought out loud. There was only one thing to do.

'I have to get inside it,' said Harry.

'No, Harry,' said Hermione sounding very frightened. 'Don't you dare. Don't even joke about something like that.'

'It's the only way,' said Harry. 'We can't destroy it by spells and I'd bet 100 Galleons that it has some anti-melt charm too. This is the only way.'

'Harry, no – there has to be some other option.' Hermione was sounding desperate now.

'Look, you've said you're with me whatever, right? Well now's the test. This is what being with me means. You have to trust me, you have to follow me, do what I say without question.'

'Even if it means endangering your life?'

'Hermione, we're fighting Voldemort,' said Harry. 'Everything we do against him threatens our life. I need you with me. Its your choice to stand with me or not.'

Her lip quivered, but she bowed, unable to face the words. Harry turned towards the armour again. He felt the outside and found what he was looking for.

'I knew it,' he said. 'That's why I couldn't pull the helmet off. Its stuck together. The whole thing is one piece, like a death shroud in a tomb. If I unhook this clasp it should open.'

No sooner had the words left his mouth then Harry was stood facing the open armour. The first fears of what he had to do crept in.

'Well, here goes.'

' _Harry!'_ Hermione flung herself at him, hugging him tight. Disentangling himself, Harry stepped forward into the armour and closed it behind him.

Immediately he heard a voice in his mind.

'Welcome, Harry Potter.' The voice was deep and smooth.

'Is this Gryffindor?' said Harry.

'Of a fashion,' replied the voice. 'What is your task, brave one?'

'I have to destroy you,' said Harry. 'The suit of armour is a Horcrux of the most evil wizard alive. It must be destroyed, but I don't know how.'

'Tis a noble task, young one,' said the voice. 'But the destruction of this armour will not be simple.'

'I know that,' said Harry. 'But how can I do it?'

'It can be done but it requires those stout of heart and true to themselves. The spirit inside this metal can be passed on to you, but you must be destroyed.'

'That cant be the only way!' said Harry.

'Let me clarify; the spirit can be conferred onto you but when you leave you will exhibit either extremely violent or extremely psychologically different tendencies to the norm. You need another to destroy that face. It will destroy the armour and return you to your former self.'

Harry's heart leapt. He called out to Hermione. 'Hermione, listen and listen carefully...'

He explained the message of the voice and told Hermione she would have to do the other side.

'What does that mean, Harry?' said Hermione. 'Does that mean I have to fight you? Hurt you?'

'Probably,' said Harry. 'You have to do enough to kill that part of Voldemort's spirit that will inhabit me. I know you can do it.'

'I'm not sure, Harry...'

'You don't have a choice...I'm coming out.'

At the words Harry felt a most uncomfortable sensation settle on his head. It was as though his mind had been pushed out; he was drifting deeper and deeper...

Hermione watched nervously as the armour opened again. Harry sauntered out and stopped a few feet from her. She looked at him apprehensively, expecting the violence to come out straight away.

'Hello, Hermione,' said Harry. His voice was distant and eerily echo-like; it sounded like a shadow of itself.

'Harry, is that you?' said Hermione.

'Does it look like me?' He took a step closer and brushed his hand over her face. It sent an icy chill down Hermione's neck. 'Does it _feel_ like me?'

'Harry, what do I do?'

'Whatever you want.' Harry made as if to embrace her but she pulled away.

'Stupefy!' she cried. The spell hit Harry as his eyes glazed. His expression changed.

'I'm sorry, Hermione, I cant give you what you want,' he said suddenly. 'I'm not blind or stupid.'

'What?'

'I can't go out with you. I don't think you're at all attractive. Ginny is far sexier, everyone thinks so. You're too much of a bookworm.'

Hermione fired another spell at Harry. It missed.

'That wont work. I thought you were brainy. Must have been cheating on those tests.'

'Stupefy!'

'Still nothing! Spells not strong enough? Just like my affections for you. I cant believe you thought I'd be interested. In _you_. Who would be? An Unforgivable Curse would be better than a night with _that._ '

'C- crucio!' Hermione yelled. Harry contorted in pain and Hermione cried. Suddenly, his real voice came through.

'That's it!' Harry cried through the pain. 'That's what you have to do. Whatever it takes, keep hurting it.'

Then he changed again.

'Hermione, you bitch, I'm going to kill you!'

Harry made for Hermione but she stunned him. He rose again.

'Crucio!'

'Hermione! No! Please! Please make it stop!' Harry cried.

'Harry! I'm sorry,' Hermione sobbed, breaking the curse. Harry went for her again. 'C-ccrucio!'

Harry's body smacked to the floor contorted in unnatural directions. Hermione cried hard at the sight but couldn't stop. Small cuts had appeared on Harry's face and blood was pouring out. Hermione broke the curse and fell back against the wall. Harry rose.

'You have caused me pain, you whore. Now its time to die. I shall tell Ron and Ginny all about how I killed you, and they shall laugh with me. Then they die too! But, you must go first, wench!'

Harry shot at Hermione. Summoning all her emotions, all her love, all her hate for Voldemort she balled it up inside and shot it at Harry charging towards her.

'AVADA KEDAVRA!'

Harry was hit squarely in the chest and flew backwards at least thirty feet down the corridor. He hit the floor with a dull thud where he lay quite still. Throwing her wand aside Hermione raced along the corridor to Harry's limp form. She cradled his head as hot tears began to stream down her face.

Harry had the vague sensation of being on the floor. Cold stone pressed onto his skin where his robes had ridden up over his hips. His head was full of cobwebs, his body weak and aching as though he had run ten marathons whilst being beaten constantly. His head was on something soft and warm and was being caressed. It was an odd blend. Gingerly, he opened his eyes.

'Wah? Where am I?'

'Harry? Harry is that you?' said Hermione's voice, distant and startled.

'Who else is it going to be?' said Harry groggily. 'What happened? My nerves are on fire!'

'You... I mean, I -' she began. 'You don't remember?'

'I remember going into the suit of armour,' said Harry as memories rushed back. 'It said you'd have to face your worst fear or that I would get violent and that you'd have to destroy Voldemort's spirit in me. Did you do it?'

'I, um... _oh, Harry!'_

Hermione pulled Harry's head so hard into her that he was sure she would crush his skull. She was sobbing uncontrollably and Harry could feel the vibrations running through her body. It was then he realised that the warm soft thing his head was resting on was Hermione's lap. He rose up.

'Hermione? What happened?' he asked.

'It was like you said,' she sobbed. 'Worst fears. It was horrible. Much worse than a Boggart. And I had to torture you.'

'What?' said Harry. 'No wonder I feel like I've been trampled by a herd of centaurs.'

'I'm so, so sorry, Harry,' said Hermione. 'You told me I had to.'

'And I was right,' said Harry. He moved close and hugged her. 'You were brilliant, I'm sure.'

Hermione hugged him back, sobbing and convulsing at the same time.

'But it's destroyed?' asked Harry.

'Yes,' said Hermione, gesturing at the molten ruin where the armour had once stood. 'But I couldn't do it again. Please, never ask me to again. I couldn't bear it.'

'Just get me home, I'm so weak,' said Harry. 'Call Hagrid, he can carry me.'

Harry was so exhausted he barely finished the sentence. He stayed awake long enough to see Hagrid's hairy face as Hermione fetched him before closing his eyes and blacking out.


	7. Where There's a Will...

Hagrid's tea was foul. Harry suspected it might have had something to do with the gamekeeper's shaking hands as he had added tea leaves to the pot using a trowel rather than a spoon. The water had been piping hot, direct from the roaring fire in the grate, and it was tinged with a strange harshness that Harry thought might have been Firewhiskey. All in all it was probably the worst cup of tea he had ever tasted.

Harry had been at Hagrid's for a day or so. He had been taken there directly from the school as Hagrid would have been unable to enter Grimmauld Place without Harry's permission. He had woken during the night but in pain so great that he couldn't even get up from bed. He had taken a foul potion brewed quickly by Hermione and slept again, feeling slightly better in the morning where an all-over ache had replaced the burning pain in his bones. Hermione was not there to be thanked.

Hagrid told Harry she had left after brewing the potion, not even staying to see him take it. When Harry asked where she had gone and why, he received no answer; Hagrid, it seemed, couldn't find the words to describe it.

'Is she coming back?' Harry had asked.

'I don' know,' said Hagrid. 'She was pretty upset. She was all pale and didn' say much. Jus' made that you're drinking and left. Didn' even say goodbye.'

'That's not like her,' said Harry. 'Did seeing Voldemort as me upset her that much?'

'I don' think it was that, Harry,' said Hagrid. 'It was doin' them curses on ya. She had to hurt ya, nearly kill ya to get him outta ya. Can' ave been easy for her. Poor Hermione, she probably blames herself for how ya are now.'

Harry forced himself to sit up, which was no mean feat in his condition. He downed what was left of the ointment-potion and winced at the foul taste. He hadn't considered the effect on Hermione of what she'd done to destroy the Horcrux. He tried to imagine himself performing the Unforgivable Curses on her, wondering if he'd have been able to do it. His heart panged at the thought.

'How could I do that to her, Hagrid?' said Harry ruefully. 'I shouldn't have asked her to do that. No friend should have to.'

'No normal friend would have,' said Hagrid. 'But what you an' Hermione have got is a bit more special than that, I think.'

'I doubt that anymore,' said Harry, though he warmed at Hagrid's words. 'What have I done?'

'What you had to do,' said Hagrid simply. 'What people like you and Dumbledore always do. The kind of things great men have to – turn death into a fightin' chance to live.'

Harry choked back a lump in his throat. Hagrid was _comparing_ him to Dumbledore, a man he looked up to almost like a God? The cabin was feeling hot all of a sudden.

'I have to make it up to her, make her see that it wasn't her fault,' said Harry. 'I hope she'll forgive me.'

'Don' think she blames you, Harry,' said Hagrid who was now peeling potatoes into a huge vat. 'Could be something else.'

'Like what?'

'Hermione's a good girl, always had her heart in the right place. But she had to do them evil curses, and she did 'em. Cant have bin easy for her. Might be she didn't know she had it in her to do them things, and to you an'all. Or maybe she was willing to do 'em because it was you, her mind might be all messed up.'

'I have to get up and go to her,' said Harry pushing the patchwork quilt aside.

'You'll do no such thing,' said Hagrid. 'Hermione said you're to stay here till you're well and I reckon the same. Gotta get fit before you get up.'

Harry knew it was useless to argue. Hagrid was stronger than your average troll and getting away from him was as close to impossible as you could get. And using magic against him was out of the question. Reluctantly, Harry slumped back down to the bed and tried to ignore the growing sensation of guilt building within him.

It was several days before Harry felt strong enough to leave Hagrid's cabin and this was only to walk the grounds nearby for some air. Despite the stiffness and pain Harry still felt he couldn't help but admire the power of Hermione for being able to inflict it. If he ever turned to the Dark side he'd definitely want her as one of his allies. The thought of Hermione stung Harry as much as the pain she'd caused him. She hadn't been back to visit since the night she left and Harry was both concerned and saddened by her absence. He missed her more than he thought was healthy and felt a strange vulnerability in being removed from her for so long.

The Hogwart's grounds were beginning to change now. September was fast approaching and any students who wished to return to Hogwarts for a new term would be doing so soon. Harry felt it with a sad regret that he wouldn't be among them, that the school would no longer be a home and safe haven for him. Without Dumbledore the place wasn't any safer than the average wizard dwelling. Indeed, as a past target for Voldemort it wasn't impossible that he would make an attempt to seize control of the school again, making it perhaps more unsafe than most places.

Harry was turning the events of the last few days over in his mind, trying to make sense of it. Hermione had performed the Unforgivable Curses on him. That had happened, plain and simple. But he hadnt died. How could that be? Hermione's Cruciatus Curses had certainly left their mark, but even these didnt have the sinew searing pain Harry had experienced at Voldemorts hands.

So what had happened?

Harry had a snaking suspicion about it. But he'd ignored similar inclinations in areas where Hermione was concerned before. It was as though there were a barrier before her that he wouldnt allow to be broken, a chain of thought he simply wouldnt permit himself to follow. For the longest time that barrier had been distinctly Ron Weasley-shaped. Now it was gone, it was almost like the gate to a beautiful garden had been unlatched. For the first time, Harry was actively thinking of walking through, to see if the flowers inside smelled as enticing as they looked.

It was a puzzling way to think, both exciting and terrifying at once. But there was also a war going on. And Harry needed to get back to it.

So it was with a feeling of finality that Harry said goodbye to Hagrid the next day. He impressed himself with his acting skills employed in convincing his first friend in the Wizarding world that he was well enough to leave. It took much more composure to contain his feelings than hide the discomfort he was still in.

'I'm going to go then,' said Harry. 'Thanks...for everything. For all of it.'

'You're talking like this is the last time we're gonna see each other,' said Hagrid, his beetle-black eyes crinkling in a smile.

'Where I'm going, it might well be,' said Harry. Hagrid looked at him.

'Now listen to me, Harry Potter,' he said sternly. 'You go off an' do what you gotta do but you come back. You'd better. I already lost too many good people to that foul bastard and I don't want him having you as well. You finish him, but don't get finished yourself, you hear me?'

'I'll try,' said Harry quietly.

Hagrid stepped up and drew Harry into a lung-busting hug. Despite being a decent height for his age Harry still only reached as far as Hagrid's midriff. He felt a giant teardrop splash onto his forehead and forced himself to pull away.

'I have to go,' he said. 'You take care, Hagrid. If anything happens to me I want you to look after the others. Take them away somewhere safe. If any of us survive I want them safe if I'm gone.'

'Don' say tha, Harry!' said Hagrid through great sobs.

'Promise me, Hagrid.'

Hagrid could only nod. Feeling there was little else to say, Harry left the cabin after scratching Fang around his slobbering chops. Outside the cabin he allowed himself to limp up to the castle gates, abandoning all pretence of being well. He doubted seriously he could concentrate on Apparating home so he summoned one of the school brooms to him. It was a battered Cleansweep Five but it would do. He donned his Invisibility Cloak, which went everywhere with him, and he took off.

Flying this broom was not nearly as satisfying as his own. It didn't respond as rapidly to his commands and the flight was not nearly as smooth and it lacked a little in speed. Still, it did the job. Conspicuous by its absence was the feeling of freedom and euphoria he normally associated with flying. This was sombre and bland, about as energising and exciting as an average bus ride.

It was dark when he touched down outside Grimmauld Place and Harry was stiff from sitting so long on the broom. He was also slightly damp having flown through gathering cloud just over Oxford. Harry vanished the broom and made his way gingerly up the steps and into the house. He realised how hungry he was as he passed the kitchen and decided to put off the hot bath he'd been dreaming of for the past hour or so in favour of some food.

He had just thrown some bacon into a sizzling pan when he jumped as the door opened behind him.

'Harry? What are you doing here?'

'Nice to see you too, Hermione,' said Harry, a smiling. 'You scared me to death!'

As soon as he said this he knew he had done something wrong. A terrified, haunted look spilled into Hermione's eyes and Harry had the feeling it wasn't a new look for her.

'What the hell is Hagrid playing at, letting you go before you were well enough!' she said shrilly. 'I'll kill him!'

'It isn't his fault,' said Harry placatingly. 'I had to get out of there. Any more of his rock cakes and I'd have no teeth left.'

Hermione, it seemed, was in no humour for humour.

'Very funny, Harry,' she snapped. 'You are in no state to be out of bed. You need rest, I was very specific about that to Hagrid. Ooh, he has a lot to answer for.'

'Hermione will you calm down!'

'No I will not,' she said in a voice which suggested she was about as far from calm as humanly achievable. 'And why are you cooking?'

'Um, I'm hungry?' said Harry warily.

'You are?' she said, her tone softening. 'Well, of course you are. Here, let me.'

'No, I'm fine. I can do it.'

'Fine. Don't let me do anything to help you,' she said bitterly. 'Scared I'm going to poison you, are you?'

Harry, as was his way, cottoned on at last. 'Oh, I see. I get it now. Right, lets sort this out now. Will you sit with me?'

Harry beckoned her to a chair at the table, which she sat at reluctantly, as though it was against her better judgement. Harry took a seat next to her and stared into her eyes, contemplating his words. He knew whatever he said next would shape how much effort it would take to fix what he had broken.

'Hermione – I'm sorry.'

She glared at him in disbelief. 'What?'

'I'm sorry,' Harry repeated. 'So, so sorry.'

'F-for what?' she asked, clearly thrown.

'I shouldn't have made you do what you did,' said Harry. 'It was the most evil thing I've ever done. I shouldn't have asked you to perform those curses. You shouldn't have had to go through that. It should have been me.'

'Harry, I -,' Hermione began. 'What do you mean by that?'

'Just that I should have had to perform the curses. I should be the one dealing with this, not you. Physical pain heals easily enough. It's the other kind that's harder to make better. And I made you go through that. If you hate me, I'll understand.'

'Hate you?' she said desperately. 'Why would you think that?'

'Because of what I made you do,' said Harry. 'I couldn't even do those curses properly to Bellatrix Lestrange, to Snape. I made you do them to me. I don't know what I did to make you use them but it must have been bad.'

'W-what? You mean – you mean you don't remember? Remember what you said to me?'

'Did I say anything to you?' said Harry. 'I only remember being in my body once to tell you to keep doing whatever it was that was driving Voldemort from me. Apart from that my mind is a black hole.'

'You said – oh, it doesn't matter. It was him, he did it. Harry, I want you to know I was trying to hurt _it,_ not you. You believe me, don't you?'

'No.'

'What?'

'I don't believe you, but that's the point,' said Harry. 'That's why I knew I could count on you. I knew that you would do whatever it took to win the day. Even if it meant hurting me, even killing me. Normal friends wouldn't have done. I needed someone who was, well...a little more.'

'What does that mean?'

'Hermione,' said Harry, squeezing her hands and leaning in so close he could see her pupils dilating, 'you used Avada Kedavra on me but I didn't die. It can't have been the normal spell or I would have died with the Horcrux. Something you put into the curse kept me alive when the piece of Voldemort was killed. I dont know quite what that means, but I think...'

Harry broke off. His unspoken thoughts rushed back to him and the new idea of Hermione Granger was potent, now that the girl was before him.

'Harry...'

The sizzling of the burning bacon broke the mood. Harry got up quickly and put out the flames with a casual flick of his wand. He found himself shivering and realised he was still in his damp clothes. He turned to Hermione who looked deep in thought and was muttering to herself.

'I'm going to take a bath,' said Harry. The words didn't seem to have registered with Hermione who just sat there. Harry shrugged and left, mounting the stairs with considerable effort.

The warm water of the bath was soothing, as was the herbal relaxants mixed into the bubble bath he had added. The room was filled with the aroma of summer flowers and the spacious tub was brimming with blue and pink bubbles. Harry was glad Ron couldn't see this as he might start worrying about certain aspects of Harry's personality.

Slipping into the soapy water Harry was unable to contain a satisfied sigh. He closed his eyes as the relaxants enveloped him, targeting all of his aching body parts. It was at times like this that Harry really loved magic. Content and warm, Harry lay back and enjoyed the soothing sensation. Then there was a knock at the door.

'Harry? Can I come in?'

'No, you can't!' said Harry. 'I'm in the bath. _Hermione!'_ She hadn't even waited for an answer before opening the door. 'Do you mind? I'm sort of busy here.'

'Oh, Harry, I wont look,' she said, a mischievous glint in her eyes. 'Besides, you're covered in such pretty bubbles why would I want to look at anything else?'

'Ha ha,' said Harry, covering up his private bits despite the yard or so of thick bubbles shrouding him. 'Is there something you especially wanted to say to me, that couldn't have waited till I was clothed?'

'Just about what you said downstairs,' she replied. 'About the way I used Avada Kedavra on you without killing you. What did you mean by that?'

As usual, Harry felt quite disarmed that Hermione thought his words as worth memorizing as a text book. Or it could have something to do with his being naked and Hermione barely five feet away.

'Just that you have to really hate someone to do the spell properly and that you and me don't have even one bad feeling for each other. Ron has always been a bit jealous of me, I think if he had the power to AK me properly I might have died. But you, well, we're different, aren't we?'

'We are?'

'I think so,' said Harry. 'We've been close for as long as I can remember. It's a different kind of close to what me and Ron have, or used to have. It's what saved me. You hated Voldemort and when you coupled that with what he was making you do to me it was strong enough to make you use the Crucitus Curse and Avada Kedavra. But you had enough good feelings for me to stop you killing me. I think it kept me alive when the Horcrux was destroyed. Dumbledore always told me it was a powerful force but I didn't realise that it could be used in Avada Kedavra. I don't think even Dumbledore knew.'

'What force?' asked Hermione.

'Whatever it is that you feel for me, and...that I I feel for you,' said Harry. 'Friendship...or whatever. You wanted to help me so much that you used it in place of hate, which you normally need for the Killing Curse. You wanted it so much that it worked. I'm starting to see that magic is really all about will; if you want something enough, and you have the emotion to do it, it can be done.'

'You aren't making any sense, Harry.'

'I am to me and that's all that matters right now. I just want you to know you did the right thing. I'm alive. You hurt me, but its okay. I'll be fine. Don't beat yourself up over it.'

'I don't like that I hurt you,' said Hermione. 'I couldn't do it again.'

'You could, and that's why I need you,' said Harry. 'You're stronger than you think. You never give yourself enough credit unless you see a 112% score at the bottom of anything you do. One day you'll see how amazing you are. You'll have to see things like I do.'

'Y-you think I'm amazing?' said Hermione quietly.

'Absolutely,' said Harry. 'Why wouldn't I?'

'Well, you just – you've never said anything like that to me before.'

'I know,' said Harry. 'I should have, though, and a long time ago.'

Hermione got up and sat next to the bath. Harry could only just make out the outline of her hair through the bubbles. He jumped as something soft but cold touched his arm. Hermione had reached through the bubble wall and found Harry's forearm on the bath rim.

'Her-Hermione,' Harry stuttered. 'What are you doing? I like you being around and all, but this might be a bit much.'

'Has it ever occurred to you how strange it is that we can do these kinds of things fairly comfortably?'

Harry was feeling a lot of things. Comfortable wasn't near the top of the list. Hermione was absently stroking his arm through the bubbles. It was a visceral reminder of the burgeoning new feelings Harry was allowing himself to consider in relation to her. Though as he thought on it, he wondered how new they actually were. They didn't feel alien or unfamiliar. It was like a secret truth he'd known for a while, but had denied. It edged him towards agreeing with her that this wasn't as uncomfortable a situation as it ought to be.

'Not till you just said it,' Harry replied eventually. 'Maybe everyone has a point about us, eh?'

Harry meant to sound teasing, but it didn't come out that way. He held his breath, waiting for Hermione to respond.

'What do you mean by that?' she asked softly. There was no malice, but the question was dangerously loaded. Harry knew he had to weigh his answer carefully, or should he just thrown caution to the wind?

'Only that - haven't you noticed how people think, well, _certain things_ about us? In a romantic sort of way. Krum, Cho, Rita, Ron, to name only a few. We've never given them any reason to, as far as I know. But they wouldn't be surprised to see us like this. Why do you reckon that is?'

'Because we're so close, I imagine. Best friends, aren't we? But being a boy and a girl people just assume the other stuff.'

'They didn't with you and Ron.'

'No,' said Hermione thoughtfully. 'I don't suppose they did.'

'And he's been around you as much as me,' said Harry.

'That's true. But...what are you trying to say?'

'Just pointing out how close we are. Some might say, _unusually_ close. I know we've shared in some mad things, but Ron was there too. But other people see something between us, assume we are closer than normal friends. I have to tend to agree. That's what I was trying to say about your curses on me. They should have done more damage than they did. They did enough, but I'm okay. I think...its because, I think...you'd never really hurt me. We are too close for that.'

As if to emphasise the point, Harry heard Hermione shuffle even closer to the bath. In fact, she was now laying practically parallel to him.

'Put your arm around me, Harry,' said Hermione. 'Please?'

'But I'll get bubbles on your clothes,' Harry pointed out.

'I don't care about that,' said Hermione. 'Will you do it, please?'

Harry, squinting through the oily haze of bubbles, found Hermione's shoulder and slipped his arm uncertainly around her neck. She rested her head into the crook of his arm and held his hand in her own. She was rubbing the back of his palm with her thumb and Harry could focus on nothing else. Something very odd was happening and Harry had the desire to run away. This was tempered by an even stronger urge to stay where he was and this had nothing to do with his nakedness. He hoped that Hermione couldn't see through the bubbles now that she was this close. But even this urge wasn't as strong as Harry thought it ought to be.

It was probably due to his arm being extended further than it was designed for but Harry found himself inclined to slip to the side of the bath. Blowing the bubble cloud out of the way he soon found himself looking into the bushy expanse of Hermione's hair. The urge to rest his head against hers was intense and the thought quite frightening. Why did he even want to? There was only one way to find out – do it and see what it felt like.

Harry lowered his head till it was almost touching Hermione's; he could feel individual strands of hair tickling his cheek. With a silent breath he eased forward and met the bouncy crown of Hermione's head. She shook with the contact and gave a barely audible 'oh' before pulling Harry's arm tighter around her. They sat like that for several minutes, a period during which Harry was sure he'd had more thoughts in one go than any other time he could recall. Eventually, he had to speak.

'Hermione? What are you thinking?'

'Just things,' she said, sounding as contented as Harry felt.

'Like what?'

'Like what this means,' she said. 'And if it's wrong that I like it so much. And why I didn't think of it before. And about what you said about my Avada Kedavra. And if it means what I think it might...'

'You think too much,' said Harry.

Hermione laughed. 'You're probably right. And I have to think some more so I'll leave you to your bath before I decide I don't want to leave here. I'll see you downstairs when you're done.'

Hermione disentangled herself from Harry and got up. A moment later the door closed and Harry, trying uselessly to decipher his thoughts, was left to wonder just what the hell was happening to him.

Hermione was about as un-Hermione-like as Harry could ever remember her being. She flitted between several different states of mind ranging from guilt at what she'd done every time one of Harry's injuries flared up, to abject euphoria if Harry said anything even remotely nice to her. When Harry had come down to breakfast one morning rubbing his shoulder Hermione had been convinced it was a hangover from her curses and spent the entire morning brewing a healing paste before rubbing it into Harry's shoulder for an hour, all the while scolding herself under her breath. For some reason he couldn't fathom, Harry had neglected to tell her that his shoulder had felt fine for ages. On the other hand he felt that an hour applying the cream was far more than was necessary.

Not that he was complaining. On the contrary, he was positively revelling in the new environment. And it was certainly having an effect on the house. Hermione had bought brightly coloured candles to reflect her good mood and charmed them to be extra bright before putting them all around the house. It almost felt like a normal home before long. Add to this Hermione being at Harry's beck and call doing everything from cleaning his room to making him fattening desserts after dinner. One night she also washed his hair while he was in another soothing bubble bath. Despite all the kisses with Cho and Ginny, Harry decided this was by far the most erotic moment of his life.

He did feel guilty about taking advantage of Hermione this way but there was little he could do. Every time he even suggested doing anything for her she went into cloud cuckoo land and practically skipped to whatever she was doing next. He even jokingly suggested that since she had braved washing his hair that he might have a go at hers. She was so flustered at this, however, that she muttered incoherently and blushed so much that she had to leave the room.

In the future Harry felt that such bliss in life couldn't last. When a letter popped out of the fire into Grimmauld Place one afternoon when Harry was watching Hermione darning bizarre elf balaclavas, it was with a surprising lack of trepidation that he opened it. He lazily glanced over the lines, one eye still on the knitting needles. His curiosity was tweaked however when he read the name of Albus Dumbledore. His attention fixed directly, he read on. It turned out to be a short letter.

_Mr H. Potter_

_* & !"£ }^&" ($:!*_

_'_ _London._

Harry smirked as he realised even the mail couldn't reveal the address of the old Order HQ.

_Dear Mr Potter_

_R.E. Last will and Testament of A.P.W.B. Dumbledore._

_Due to the passing of aforementioned person this execution of the will left by him has been engaged upon. Most aspects have been settled but several matters remain outstanding, the most pressing of which regards a quantity of possessions left to yourself. The contents of an address left to alchemical research are to be passed on to you at the earliest possible opportunity. It has been difficult to locate you and only recently have we found a close friend of Mr Dumbledore's, one M. McGonagall, who is aware of your location. The new owners of the address left in the will are anxious to take up residence but cannot do so until the contents are removed. If you could please call into the Ministry of Magic at the earliest opportunity this matter can be resolved. We are located on Level Five, Office of Magical Law, Hereditary and Obituary Department._

_Yours &c._

_Asphyxias Bloom._

Harry folded the letter and sat back, shaking slightly. Hermione looked up from her knitting.

'Harry? What's wrong?'

'This,' said Harry, holding the letter out for her. She took it and read, her eyes widening.

'Oh, my, Harry,' she said, astonished. 'Dumbledore left you something?'

'Not just something,' said Harry. 'A hell of a lot by the sounds of it. A whole house worth of stuff.'

'I wonder what it is.'

'I don't know but I'm going to find out,' said Harry. 'Hermione – what's alchemy? I know Dumbledore was into it but what does it do?'

'It turns metals into gold and creates the Elixir of Life.'

'I thought the Philosopher's Stone did that?' said Harry.

'It does, but alchemy is concerned with making the Stone. Only Nicloas Flamel and Dumbledore ever did it properly. He probably left alchemists his house because he asked the only successful alchemist to die and his secret went with him.'

'I have to go and find out what he left me,' said Harry. 'What could he have wanted me to have?'

'I don't know, Harry,' said Hermione. 'Come on, get your cloak on and we'll go now.'

'You – you don't have to come,' said Harry. 'It'll probably be boring.'

'What's the matter, Harry,' said Hermione, 'afraid of being seen with me? Besides, the Ministry might be dangerous for you. You might need me.'

'Good point. I cant do the Unforgivable Curses as well as you.'

'Don't say that,' said Hermione in a pitiful voice.

'I'm sorry,' said Harry quickly. 'I was only joking.'

'Please don't,' said Hermione. 'I don't want to remember it.'

'Okay, I'm sorry.'

'Stop apologising. Come on, lets go.'


	8. Changing Hands

The fifth floor of the Ministry of Magic was a rather dull place and perhaps the least daunting location at the Headquarters of Wizard government. The Department for Magical Law was the closest point at which the world of Muggle and Wizard could be connected. People here dressed in plain, boring robes or business suits. Matters dealt with here ranged from the mildly mundane to the call-the-hangman mind numbing. It was here that Harry and Hermione now found themselves.

Harry was glad of one thing, it was a quiet time of day and they had managed to enter the Ministry with only the most fleeting of glances in their direction. Harry didn't blame people for gawping at him, not when the Daily Prophet was still telling the world he was some kind of saviour. The looks might have been tinged with an edge of apprehension and, again, Harry couldn't argue; the last two occasions he had visited the Ministry had resulted in a confrontation with Voldemort himself and more lately a vociferous showdown with the Minster of Magic himself. It seemed that every time Harry entered this building bad things tended to happen.

But he was sure that little of that nature was likely today, not in such dull surroundings. Harry had seen plenty of movies with beige and grey offices and this place seemed modelled on the worst of these. Unlike the fascinating Auror office the cubicles here were not decked with moving pictures of wanted criminals. Instead there were tottering piles of parchment and bulging files in every corner and overworked, bored and haggard witches and witches attending the daily grind. The place smelled strongly of powerful coffee and polish and little paper aeroplanes shot around from cubicle to cubicle narrowly missing the heads of unsuspecting workers too disenchanted to realise where they were walking.

Hermione, who was good at following signs, led the way to a small room on the far side of the office where a glass door gave relief to the beige walls. Peeling letters on the grubby glass spelt the name of Asphyxias Bloom and a small balding man sat at a desk inside. Looking up, he beckoned them in.

'Ah, you must be Mr Potter!' he said rising and shaking Harry's hand, revealing an unexpectedly firm grip. 'It's a pleasure, of course. And who is this? Your partner?'

'My, uh - what?' said Harry, who had understood perfectly but was flustered all the same.

'Your partner,' said Mr Bloom. 'You know, significant other? Spouse? It's not politically correct to say 'girlfriend' these days. But only significant others can be present at a reading such as this.'

'That's alright,' said Hermione. 'I am his partner, girlfriend, whatever you wish to use. We have no documentation of this, though. I hope this isn't a problem?'

Harry looked at her, surprised at the ease with which she lied. What came as an even bigger surprise was how he liked the sound of her words.

Hermione. As his girlfriend. There was an idea. And his heart flapped hard in eager, impatient agreement, as though exasperated that his head had taken so long to finally consider the one thing he'd made most off limits in his life.

But now he'd thought it, he couldn't shake it. Nor the pleasant tingle that crossed every inch of his skin as the notion caught him. Was that what this was? This strange unease he'd been feeling; this dangerous, illicit idea that had been tickling the edge of his mind? Wonderful and terrifying all the same.

Did he fancy Hermione?

He couldn't then think of a single reason to say he didn't. He was floored by the revelation. The sound of conversation drew back his racing mind.

'No, no, of course not,' said Mr Bloom happily. 'Your word is enough, though seeing you together leaves me in no doubt of your attachment. Young love, is it? Elopement and illegitimate children planned, eh?'

Mr Bloom laughed at his own comments.

'Young love, yes; children, not for while,' said Hermione simply whilst giving Harry an arresting glance. He was too busy choking on shock to really say anything back.

'Right, to business,' said Mr Bloom. 'The will of Albus Dumbledore. Great man, great loss, of course, but also a considerable estate.' Harry noticed Bloom's eyes widen in a way not too unlike those of Dudley, Uncle Vernon and all other greedy men where money was concerned. 'As I mentioned in my letter, Mr Dumbledore has left his property, the expansive country estate of Nine Acre Wood, to alchemical research. His wealth has been divided between four recipients; Hogwarts School, his brother Aberforth Dumbledore, Mr Harry Potter and an organisation known as...hold on, let me read this right...S.P.E.W.'

Hermione gasped, Harry started. Dumbledore had left him money?

'Now, as Mr Dumbledore seemed to be a diligent saver,' said Mr Bloom consulting a large register, 'the amount divided was quite substantial. This has already been distributed by Gringotts Inheritance Goblins. Your account, Mr Potter, has been amended to the tune of ten thousand Galleons.'

Harry spat out the water he had helped himself to, spraying it over Mr Bloom's desk. A quick cleaning spell later and the wizard lawyer was smiling again.

'Good news, yes? I don't blame your reaction. Ten thousand Galleons is quite a windfall. But that's what 150 years of saving will do for you. Now, do either of you know of this Spew thing? Its entrusted to one Hermione Granger. I don't suppose either of you know her?'

'Yes I know her!' cried Hermione in her excitement. 'Well, I mean, I am her. I'm Hermione Granger. S.P.E.W is my organisation, I set it up. I cannot believe that Dumbledore left money to it.'

'Well he has,' said Bloom. 'A comparable sum to that given to Mr Potter here. Clearly he thought it was a cause worth funding.'

Harry looked at Hermione and felt a strange feeling of happiness for her. The look in her eyes displayed pure elation and Harry was delighted for her. Despite all his disparaging remarks about SPEW he knew Hermione cared a lot about it and this unexpected funding had made her joyous. Harry couldn't help but stare at the pretty glow it gave her face.

'Right, to the final piece of business,' said Bloom. 'The contents of Mr Dumbledore's house have all been entrusted to you Mr Potter. Normally these would have been delivered right to you, but it appears that your home seems to evade all attempts to locate it. It was suggested that it was Unplottable, laughable I know...'

'Try to appreciate, Mr Bloom,' said Hermione in a half-whisper, 'the very great danger Harry is in. He is working constantly against You-Know-Who and sometimes needs to be hidden. His work and life are very covert and this must be maintained. I'm sure you understand.'

'Oh, perfectly so, Miss Granger,' said Bloom. 'I apologise, I won't press the matter.'

'Thank you,' said Hermione.

'The items left to you,' said Bloom quickly, 'are mostly pretty mundane things. Trinkets, strange instruments, old school books, that sort of thing.'

'School books?' said Harry. He looked at Hermione and they shared look which said quite plainly 'half-blood Prince'.

'Yes,' said Bloom, 'quite boring things. They have been left to you with specific instructions that they are delivered intact. I assume you know the meaning or value of these items?'

'Yes,' said Harry quickly. 'They've got, er, sentimental value, you know.'

'Of course.'

'When can I collect them?' Harry asked.

'Today,' replied Mr Bloom. 'Simply sign here, here and here, and initial here and I will call for someone to escort you to the storage rooms.'

Harry snatched the parchment from Mr Bloom and his quill, signing his name haphazardly against the starred lines Mr Bloom had marked out. After the final initial had been signed Bloom folded up a message into a paper aeroplane, tapped it with his wand and sent it flying from the room. In a few moments a dumpy sort of woman entered the room.

'Dotty, will you please escort Mr Potter and Miss Granger to storage?' said Mr Bloom.

'Certainly,' replied Dotty with only the slightest of looks towards Harry's scar.

They walked in silence, slowly behind the stubby legged woman. She led them back across the office and into another elevator, this one considerably smaller than the main one leading to the Atrium. The three of them squashed inside and the lift rattled down several floors, opening up onto a grey corridor lit by torches held in dirty yellow brackets. The third door on the right was their destination.

'Right, here it is,' said the woman gruffly. 'Follow the shelves until you find your name, your things will be there. I will wait here.'

Harry entered the dim storage room feeling Hermione follow close behind. He could barely make out the lettering on the shelves and it took some time to find the P column. The row seemed to stretch for miles into darkness at the back of the room and by the time Harry reached the compartment with his name he could no longer see the end of the row in either direction.

'I don't like this place, Harry,' said Hermione, grabbing his arm. 'It's creepy.'

'I, er, sort of need my arm,' said Harry, though without making any effort to move it.

'Oh, ok,' said Hermione. She didn't let go either.

Harry started to flick through the pile of boxes in the compartment with one hand until, eventually, Hermione let go of his other arm. In the dark of the storage room it was hard to see what the contents of most of the boxes were, but by touch alone Harry counted at least two dozen books and a load of spindly instruments that he suspected had once lived on the Headmasters' desk.

'What do I do with them?' Harry asked Hermione.

'Here, let me,' she replied brushing him to once side. A flick of her wand later and all the boxes vanished leaving nothing but an empty space. 'They'll be waiting for us at home,' Hermione continued. 'It'll be much easier to look through them there. I mean, I know it's dark at home but nowhere near as bad as this.'

'Why do you keep calling it home?' asked Harry.

'Well, it is, sort of, isn't it?' said Hermione. 'And besides, it's best not to say the name out loud. Walls have ears, as they say. Anyone could be listening.'

'Good point,' said Harry. 'Let's go. Pick up the candle, will you? I'm not sure I want to walk back without it.'

'Aww, chosen one scared of the dark?' Hermione teased. 'Do you want me to hold your hand?'

'Yeah, if you like.'

The words came out before Harry could stop them. He was glad it was dark as he was pretty convinced he was flushing like never before. There was a few seconds silence in which an atmosphere sprang up that was awkward and embarrassing. Hermione reached across Harry and in one movement grabbed the candle from the shelf while at the same time slipping her other hand into Harry's. She didn't look at him, but he could see a grin on her face by the light from the flickering candle.

_She likes this,_ Harry thought. _Maybe she even teased about the hand holding on purpose._ Her skin felt smooth and cool against his own palm, which was beginning to sweat a little. Harry, for reasons quite beyond his control, gave the back of Hermione's palm a little stroke with his thumb. He heard a small, but very sharp intake of breath next to him before Hermione squeezed his hand in response and returned the sentiment.

Such things were running through Harry's mind like never before. Here he was walking hand-in-hand with Hermione, neither one looking at the other but both experiencing the same thrill at the contact between them. All too soon the end of the row neared and they soon found themselves facing the stubby woman who had escorted them from upstairs. Harry had expected Hermione to break their contact at this point but the opposite happened. She moved closer to him so that their whole arms were touching and Hermione's head was almost resting on Harry's shoulder. For his part, he was frozen in place by her close proximity.

'Did you find it?' asked the little woman.

'Yes, thanks,' said Hermione. 'I vanished it away so we have all now.'

'Very good, miss,' said the woman. 'You'll need to fill out some paperwork...'

Hermione disengaged herself from Harry and began filling out various forms, leaving Harry to ponder what was happening. One thing he felt for sure was that his hand felt very lonely without Hermione's electric touch to keep it company. It had never been like this before, not with Cho and certainly not with Ginny. With Cho the very idea of touching scared Harry witless, while with Ginny it was all about snogging, nothing more. But here he was totally overwhelmed by just holding hands with a girl, and not just any girl – Hermione.

When had this happened? He had totally missed the stage where his admiration for her had stopped being that of a friend and became that of a potential suitor. He was starting to see her less as the Hermione he knew and more as the Hermione he wanted to know better, and in ways quite inappropriate for a friend to think about. He had grown used to being obsessed with looking at her but now that had been replaced with another need – the need to touch her, to be near her, to be intimate with her. It was a distracting chain of thought.

'Well, that's all sorted,' said Hermione coming over. 'Shall we, er, go home?'

Harry nodded, totally dumbstruck by the look Hermione had just given him. They went to the lift and in no time at all found themselves striding down the Atrium towards the Apparition points. The passed the Fountain of Magical Brethren, which had been remade after Voldemort and Dumbledore had destroyed it during their duel.

'I remember when I first saw that,' said Harry nodding towards the golden sculpture. 'I remember laughing to myself at what you would say if you saw the house-elf like that.'

'Why, you weren't with me?' said Hermione looking surprised. 'It would have been your hearing, wouldn't it? Why would you have thought of me?'

'I, er, dunno,' said Harry, turning a hint of scarlet again. 'I just saw it and you came to mind. I emptied my entire money pouch into it, because I said I would if I got off.'

'So, is that a regular thing?' asked Hermione tentatively.

'What?'

'You thinking about me when I'm not around?'

Harry didn't answer at once, considering why Hermione would ask a question like this. He decided truth was the best answer.

'I do it sometimes,' he said. 'Especially if I'm about to do something that might be a bit wrong or dangerous. I sort of hear your voice in my head, telling me off or trying to reason with me. I used to hear it all the time when I imagined what you'd say if you knew I wasn't doing my homework properly, or not practising Occlumency enough, that sort of thing.'

'I-I'm surprised,' said Hermione, who herself was blushing a little now. 'I'd have never of thought you would do something like that.'

'Its bit weird, I know.'

'It isn't weird,' said Hermione. 'It's quite sweet actually, knowing that I mean something to you.'

'Now that is a weird thing to say!' said Harry incredulously. 'You must know that you mean something to me! That you're so important to me, that I look for your approval in everything. I mean, I'm practically in...'

Harry stopped himself sharply in mid sentence. He didn't dare look in Hermione's direction and he was glad they had reached the Apparition Squares. He chanced a look at her as they turned and prepared to Apparate. Her face was glowing and she appeared to be smiling broadly to herself alone. But it was her eyes that took Harry by surprise – they were on fire, dancing and alive. Without looking at him, Hermione turned and disappeared. Harry took a deep breath and prepared to follow her, totally terrified about what would happen when he got back to Grimmauld Place and he and Hermione would be totally alone. Taking one last look down the Atrium Harry reckoned he'd prefer a round with Voldemort here rather than facing what might be waiting for him in Hermione's company.


	9. The Best of Times, The Worst of Times

Harry was on tenterhooks all evening. He couldn't decide which set of feelings was worse; the highly anxious set where he didn't know quite what to expect, or the terrifically excited set where he still didn't know what Hermione had planned but was eager to find out just the same. What did concern him was the frequency of highly impure thoughts he kept having.

He remembered during fourth year Ron having, what recovering alcoholics call, 'a moment of clarity' and realising Hermione was a girl. Harry felt he was experiencing something similar. He had never noticed before the succulently seductive sway in Hermione's hips, something which surprised him greatly as he'd noticed it in other girls. It was mesmerising and he knew Hermione had caught him gawping at her several times during the course of the day. He tried to drive it from his mind first by thinking about Horcruxes, which proved too frustrating to concentrate on, then by polishing his broomstick which he had transported, along with all his other possessions, to Grimmauld Place when he had left Privet Drive. The action of polishing, however, caused Hermione to burst out laughing and Harry, quickly cottoning on, packed away his things and sat in an embarrassed silence until they had dinner.

They had something of a minor feast that evening. Plates of sausages, chicken, steak, peas, chips and several other things Harry weren't quite sure of filled the kitchen table. Hermione looked very pleased with herself; she had asked Mrs Weasley to teach her the spells which made food cook itself, and this was the first time she had got it right. Harry, who had learned that people liked to be appreciated after hard work, offered his praise.

'Wow, Hermione,' he said. 'This looks superb. It's like a mini-Hogwarts.'

'Thanks, Harry,' she beamed. 'That's exactly what I was trying for!'

Harry, finding himself oddly undone by her radiant smile, merely grinned back and sat down. He pulled several of the plates towards himself and began to fill the platter in front of him. After tentatively sampling several of the wares on offer he quickly discovered that it all tasted quite as good as it looked. Hermione was wearing a sort of waiting-for-approval look and Harry swallowed quickly.

'This is great,' he smiled. 'One day you'll have to teach me to cook like this.'

'Like you'd stand over a stove with me for hours while I showed you the fine arts of grilling and boiling!'

'I might,' said Harry shrewdly. This time it was Hermione who looked disarmed, an effect that made Harry's insides do somersaults.

'Well...' said Hermione trying to regain composure. 'If we get time, you know after Voldemort is done away with, maybe I'll try and teach you. That isn't the best stove in the world, though. It's a bit of a death trap actually.'

'Planning to stay for a bit once I've saved the world, are you?' asked Harry, grinning.

'Oh well - I just meant...'

'I'd like it if you did,' said Harry more calmly than he felt. 'It'd be nice to have some company...only if you wanted to, obviously.'

'You - you want me to live with you?' said Hermione, unable to hide the flicker of a tremble in her voice.

'Well I...er, didnt mean live with...but then again, I can't cook,' said Harry bumblingly. 'And you wouldn't want me to die of starvation, would you?'

'Of course not,' said Hermione brightly. 'Plus you might need someone to gloat to once the paper starts calling you the Boy Wonder Who Saved the World or something.'

'I quite liked SuperHarry,' said Harry. 'It's got a nice ring to it.'

'We'd have to find you a cape, though,' said Hermione thoughtfully. 'And some kinky red boots. Maybe Fred and George have got contacts in the fashion world. And, of course, you'll have to wear your underpants outside your robes.'

'You'd like that would you?'

'Yeah, it would be quite funny,' said Hermione.

'Sounds like you've given this a bit of thought,' Harry teased. 'Seems like you've got my pants on your brain.'

'Not at all,' said Hermione, unabashed. 'That's just you and your wishful thinking.'

Hermione flicked her eyebrows at Harry and he nearly choked on a particularly large piece of chicken that he tried to swallow without chewing.

'My word, Harry,' said Hermione laughing. 'You're really not very good at flirting, are you?'

'At w-what, sorry?'

'Flirting, Harry,' said Hermione. 'Considering you have girls throwing themselves at you I'd have expected you to be a bit more refined.'

'Were we flirting?' said Harry. 'I thought we were just talking.'

Hermione shook her head in a mix of exasperation and disappointment.

'Anyway,' said Harry. 'Who's throwing themselves at me? I haven't seen any throwing.'

'Come on, Harry. No need to be modest. Half the girls in Hogwarts had your picture pinned on the walls of their dormitory. There was one in my dorm, I cant remember who put it up now, and that thing with Lavender and 'Won-Won' was only because he was friends with you.'

'That's why she took their break-up so well,' said Harry, who was feeling a little more than embarrassed at the thought of his picture on bedroom walls all over the school.

'Exactly. Remember all the girls who tried to love potion you? Them too. Then there was Ginny...'

Hermione's words tailed off. She suddenly became very interested in the cupboard in the corner.

'Hermione?' Harry asked.

'Can I ask you a question?' she asked.

'You just did - but I'll permit one more,' said Harry, smiling to himself as he mimicked a response Professor Dumbledore had once given him to the same question.

'It's a bit personal.'

'When has that ever made difference between us?'

Hermione smiled. 'It's about you and Ginny.'

'Go on,' said Harry.

'I was just wondering, I mean, I often wondered before just how much real affection there was there. You haven't got to answer if you'd rather not.'

'No, its okay,' said Harry. 'Remember Lavender and Ron? Pretty much the same thing with me and Ginny, except we talked sometimes and if she'd tried to call me 'Har-Har' I would have had to have hexed her. It didn't take me long to realise that there wasn't much depth there.'

'Hmm, I thought as much,' said Hermione.

'Thought about it much did you?' said Harry. 'I never knew my love life was so interesting to you.'

'I like gossip as much as the next girl,' said Hermione, grinning. 'Besides, it was right in front of me, how could I not think about it?'

'That's evasive and you know it!' said Harry.

'Why does it matter?' said Hermione. 'Why would you want to know if I was interested in your love life?'

'Because you told me all the time how I was going wrong with Cho,' said Harry, 'but you didn't say much when I was with Ginny and doing just as badly, if only in a different sense. I thought it was because you were too tied up being lovesick over Ron.'

'Excuse me!' said Hermione, scandalised. 'I was not lovesick!'

'Oh, come on, madam,' said Harry. 'You attacked him with canaries! You were a woman scorned.'

Hermione laughed out loud. 'Oh well, maybe I was - a little. But I wasn't any worse than you! Looking like you wanted to throttle Dean Thomas every time you saw him. It was obvious.'

'Only to you,' said Harry. 'How much time do you spend looking at me anyway?'

'Probably about as much time as you spend thinking about _me_ when you're alone,' said Hermione.

'That much, eh?' said Harry. 'Got me next to Lockhart in your signed photo album, have you? I'm touched.'

'Tapped, maybe,' said Hermione. 'In the head. You've never given me a signed photo, anyway.'

'Do you want one?' asked Harry. 'I was thinking about taking old Lockie's advice and carrying some around.'

'Only if you're in the red boots we talked about.'

'What? And nothing else?'

'If you like,' said Hermione winking.

'We'll take one each and swap,' said Harry, determined to get his flirting right. 'But I want yours first.'

'Perv,' said Hermione smirking.

'That's not a 'no' then?' said Harry, deciding to see how far he could push his luck.

'We'll see, if you're a good boy,' said Hermione, flushing at her cheeks. 'Speaking of photos, though, I did have a thought. A clean one.'

'Really? I thought you'd stopped having those. Your mind's become so filthy - I'd never have believed it of you.'

'Only where you're concerned,' said Hermione tauntingly. ' _Anyway_ , I was thinking that maybe we could use pictures to brighten this place up. I thought we could take some of the pictures from your photo album and copy them and put them up. I'm sure Sirius would have liked to have pictures of your mum and dad up around the house, and we can get some of him too. And you. But if it's too painful-'

'That's a great idea!' said Harry. 'We'd have to find somewhere to copy them. Don't know how you do that here. It's not like going to the chemists and getting them done, is it? We'll have to find out. We could buy a camera and take some of you - normal ones - and stick them up to. And you could get some of your parents; I can't even remember what they look like.'

'You can meet them - if you like,' said Hermione. 'I have to go and see them, just so they know I'm okay. They're really worried about me with things being as they are.'

'I'd like to meet them,' said Harry. 'But I won't be able to say much. They might blame me for getting you into so much danger over the past six years and for getting you involved with fighting Voldemort. Plus I've got awful teeth and I'd be so embarrassed if they saw.'

Hermione laughed again. 'They won't judge you on bad teeth.'

'They're dentists and they're human,' said Harry. 'I know my Uncle would have frowned at someone if they used a drill he didn't sell. You're parents would be the same.'

'I'm sure they'd love you,' said Hermione. 'A few cavities wouldn't change that.'

'We could go next week,' said Harry. 'It's probably going to take till then to go through all of Dumbledore's stuff.'

'Do you want to go and have a look at some of it?'

Harry nodded and together they cleared the table and washed the dishes, Hermione asking Harry if she could use the spell from the Hogwarts Great Hall to float everlasting candles around the more gloomy rooms. Harry didn't see any reason to object to any idea that might make the house feel less like a morgue than it currently did. Once the plates were away Harry led the way upstairs.

The contents of Dumbledore's house filled half of one of the empty spare rooms on the second floor of the house. Harry felt a strange pang that was something like guilt or remorse that the remains of the greatest wizard who ever lived were confined to a collection of unmarked cardboard boxes. Harry counted at least twelve from where he stood in the doorway, though there may have been more behind. He crossed the room to the first box and started picking through its contents.

But Harry's mind couldnt rightly settle on the boxes, no matter how hard he tried.

Hermione had brought up flirting downstairs. She'd mentioned saucy photos. There was a vision of her in nothing but red boots that had implanted itself over his eyes, and superimposed over the real Hermione bending over the first box she came to. Harry tried really, really hard not to stare.

But he couldnt help it. It was as if six years of roadblocks had been swept away and the revelations were tumbling over each other to be heard first.

Harry was drawn back to his earlier thought. Could he really fancy Hermione?

His first instinct was to say no. She was his best friend. Surely he'd have had some clue before. But there was the fact that so many others had seen something between them. Both had shrugged it off as another avenue of attack on Harry. It was perfectly plausible. An easy Get-Out-Of-Jail-Free card that both were happy to play. Maybe to simply not consider the possibility, to deconstuct the reasons behind it. This now struck Harry as odd, if only because it was exactly the sort of thing Hermione would have done.

Unless she was avoiding it, too. Did the idea make her as nervous as he? In the same flustery, light-headed ways? He wondered, but more than that - he hoped she did. The desire for knowledge on this was flowing fast now for Harry, his once rigid opposition now no more than pebbles in a tsunami. He tried to get back to the task in hand.

The first couple of boxes were, as Mr Bloom had warned, rather mundane. There were copies of battered spell books, which Harry recognised as still being part of the Hogwarts curriculum, along with several rather heavy volumes with long titles in old English. They were the kind of books Hermione might term 'light reading'. There were books on highly advanced Transfiguration, Potion making and Charms as well as a couple on Occlumency that Harry made a note to flick through.

The first box containing something other than books was much more interesting. The first thing was a roll of parchment so long it was almost a scroll, containing an alphabetical list of spells not even Hermione had seen during all her travels through the Hogwarts library.

'He must have made all these up himself!' she exclaimed whilst looking at a spell to create everlasting liquorice wands. 'And it must have been when he was much younger. Look how yellow the parchment is. And his writing is different; it was definitely more loopy then this in every letter I've seen in his handwriting. There's enough spells here to make an entire book.'

'I'll keep it as back up for the day my money dries up,' said Harry. 'I'm sure it'd be a bestseller.'

'Look at this one, Harry,' said Hermione pointing at the list. 'It's a spell to make you invisible.'

'It says reflection, doesn't it?' said Harry, reading over her shoulder. 'What does it say?'

'It says that the spell makes the user reflect his background, thus making him invisible. If anyone saw you they'd just see the background you were reflecting. I suppose if you moved, and it was bright enough, you might see a shimmer or something, but it would be so effective in the dark.'

'I remember him telling me he didn't need a cloak to become invisible,' said Harry, recollecting his first year at Hogwarts. 'This must be how he did it.'

They spent much of the next hour poring over this list, reading about all the spells Dumbledore had invented. Lots seemed quite silly to Harry; there were lots of sweet-related spells, several personal grooming charms (including a hair-tidying spell Harry had his eye on), a few for domestic jobs and an extensive list of defensive spells. Almost all of them were non-verbal. Learning them, Harry felt, would probably take him until he was Dumbledore's age.

The next box was taller than the others, the reason for this becoming quickly apparent.

'Fawkes' perch,' said Harry sorrowfully, taking out the wooden stand which for so long had been the home of Dumbledore's pet. 'I suppose it couldn't stay in the school, could it.'

'Poor Fawkes, he must have been tied to Dumbledore somehow. As soon as he died, Fawkes had nothing left to live for.'

Moving swiftly on Harry opened the next box. Inside he found a leather case with quite bulky contents.

'What is that?' asked Hermione as Harry reached inside.

'I don't believe it!' said Harry. 'It's a bowling ball!'

Sure enough Harry was holding a large, glittering red ball, his fingers poking into evenly spaced holes.

'Why would Dumbledore have a bowling ball?' asked Hermione.

'He loved ten-pin bowling,' said Harry. 'It's on the back of his Chocolate Frog card. I memorised it after what happened in first year. It was one of his hobbies.'

'And this was another one,' said Hermione, who had just found the biggest bag of sherbet lemons Harry had ever seen.

'Shall we have one?' said Hermione.

'How about one each?' said Harry, grinning.

Hermione took out one of the yellow sweets and offered it to Harry.

'You have that one,' said Harry. 'I think my hand is stuck in this ball.'

Hermione unwrapped the sweet. 'Here, open your mouth.'

Uncertainly, Harry did as he was told. Hermione, whose hands Harry could see trembling a little, went to pop the sherbet lemon into Harry's waiting mouth. As she did so, Harry closed his mouth a little too quickly and ended up catching the end of Hermione's finger in between his lips.

Harry felt like what happened next was a sort of out of body experience. Hermione stepped forward, drawing her finger very slowly from Harry's lips but moving her hand to the side of his face. Harry wanted to speak but his mouth had gone strangely dry, a sensation amplified by the fizzing sherbet on his tongue.

'Sorry,' Harry managed to mutter. He appreciated how speech was quite the feat, since his heart had slammed up into his throat.

'Dont be,' said Hermione, her voice angel-soft. 'I'm not'.

Harry shivered involuntarily. He felt frozen in place. Hermione stepped closer still. Her body was touching the bowling ball, which Harry was unable to move. He could feel his arm being brushed down to his side as Hermione continued to prowl towards him, then the ball fell from his fingers and bounced across the wooden floor. By this time Hermione's hand had moved to cup Harry's head just below his ear, a part of his body, it turned out, which was highly sensitive. With the tingling electricity he was experiencing Harry felt he could have powered a small country for a couple of days.

'He-Hermione...'

'Shhh,' she replied softly, pressing her finger to his lips. 'I'm going to try something, okay? I have to know...'

She was speaking so low and sultrily Harry could hardly hold his mind still, let alone his violently pounding heart beating a tattoo below his ribcage.

Hermione stepped in closer again. Their noses were almost touching. A stray hair tickled Harry's cheek...

He was breathing so hard and so irregularly now that it would have been uncomfortable were it not for the situation. Hermione's body pressed fully into his, causing all parts of him to act completely independently of both each other and his mind.

'Sshhh,' she said softly. 'Don't say anything. Just trust me. You do trust me, dont you, Harry...'

Harry couldn't have answered even if he had been able to think of some kind of reply. Hermione gently eased Harry's head down, as he was considerably taller than her. He was about to close his eyes when suddenly -

BOOM! BOOM!

Thunderous knocks were battering the front door and echoing through the house. In a split second the atmosphere was shattered and Hermione was composing herself as she was crossing the room. Harry followed as she made her way to the front door. Hagrid was standing there, his beetle-like eyes crinkled with emotion, though Harry couldn't decide if it was anger or sorrow that they showed.

'Hagrid? What is it?' asked Hermione, alarmed by Hagrid's wild appearance. 'What's happened?'

'There's been an attack,' said Hagrid, his voice cracking. 'An attack at the Burrow.'

'An attack?' said Harry. 'What kind of attack? The Death Eaters?'

Hagrid nodded.

'Is anyone hurt?' asked Hermione. 'Is everyone okay?'

'No,' said Hagrid quietly. 'No they're not. Someone's dead.'


	10. Lost and Found

Harry couldn't form proper thoughts as he followed Hermione down the steps of Grimmauld Place. They would have to fly to the Burrow, as Hagrid couldn't Apparate. Harry had often observed that Hagrid looked too big to be allowed in almost any situation, but seeing him mount a broomstick was utterly absurd. The handle was barely up to his chest and Harry had quantifiable reservations that he would even get off the ground.

'Shall I Apparate, Harry?' asked Hermione. 'I don't have a broom see.'

'You can come on with me if you want,' said Harry. 'I'm sure it'll support us both.'

Hermione threw her leg over the broom and Harry scooted on behind her. Their bodies were pressed together and Hermione threw him a little smile over her shoulder and pushed back into him. Harry cursed the bad timing, even in light of the nature of the crisis, and took off after Hagrid who was already some way ahead. Hermione, who Harry remembered didn't like flying, was gripping onto Harry's hands very tightly as he guided the broom in flight. The Firebolt quickly caught Hagrid's broom and they flew on in silence.

It was late evening by this time and wispy clouds hung slightly above the trio as they flew. Summer was passing quickly and the Autumn air was chilly at the height they were flying. The sharp air mixed with the moisture of the clouds to freeze Harry's face as he shot along. Hermione in front of him was tense and her rigidity told Harry that she was probably thinking exactly as he was.

And there was only one topic. Who had died? Harry hated himself for doing it but he couldn't help but prioritise, to formulate a list of whom it would be least painful to part with. In spite of, perhaps even because of, their recent falling out Harry put Ron at the bottom of his list. The very thought that their final parting would come at a time then they were on such bad terms chilled him in a way harsh weather never could. It was all he could do to put the idea from his mind and focus on flying.

Then there were the other Weasley's, any number of whom could have been at the Burrow at the time of the attack. Fred and George were easily his favourites and he would despair greatly if either of them were the victim. Bill on the other hand, Harry thought, is half-werewolf now so perhaps it would be a blessing for him. But then that would devastate Fleur, for whom Harry had always harboured something of a tender spot, and he wouldn't want to see her upset, or dead for that matter.

That thought brought him on to Ginny. His thoughts on her were so convoluted that he had trouble deciphering them. He didn't want her dead, to be sure, but he thought he could deal with it if she had. Their relationship had deteriorated to such an extent that the selfish part of Harry's brain felt it would be easier without having to deal with the fallout from that. He chastised himself for thinking _any_ death could be easy to face. In spite of this, he couldn't but own to its truth, or think that in any case Hermione would be there to help him get over it. It was then that he remembered that if it wasn't for him she would still have been there, she might have been in the line of fire. The thought made him give her a purposeful hug and grip her fingers as tightly as they were digging into him.

'What is it?' she called back to him.

'Nothing,' he replied. 'I'm just glad you're with me.'

'That's quite scary,' said Hermione.

'What is? What's scary about that?'

'Not the thing itself,' said Hermione. 'I was just thinking _exactly_ the same thing. It was running through my mind, word for word. Then you said it.'

'That is scary,' said Harry. 'I'd better get back to my Occlumency soon.'

'Occlumency couldn't keep me out, Harry,' said Hermione. 'Not from you, anyway.'

Harry returned her warm smile with one of his own, enjoying more than he knew he should the feeling of her hands smoothing his own and her bushy head cradling back into his neck. It wasn't soon after, as if some cosmic force was conspiring to keep Harry from any happiness, that the outline of Stoatshead Hill came into view. The Burrow, silhouetted against the gently rising morning sun, stood a short distance away and Harry could almost taste the scent of sorrow drifting up on the air.

Hagrid landed first with all the grace of a gymnastic buffalo and Harry imagined that the Weasley's would know they had visitors by the gigantic thud. He, himself, touched down with much greater deftness. Hermione dismounted and, despite the impending bad news, Harry couldn't help but grin to himself at the look of disappointment on her face. She, he could tell, despite the grave situation had enjoyed that ride just as much as he had.

No sooner had they stowed their brooms safely in the shed in the garden than Mrs Weasley was crossing the yard towards them. She drew Harry and Hermione into a hug, telling them both how much she had missed them and how worried she had been. Harry could see by her face that she had been crying. A lot. Her eyes were red and puffy, her skin blotchy. Harry felt his heart sink for he knew that whoever had been killed had been one of her own.

'W-what happened?' said Harry uncertainly.

'It was You-Know-Who,' said Mrs Weasley. She spoke in a tone which suggested she was all cried out. Her voice was as tired and strained as her face. 'I knew it was only a matter of time before one of us went. There's just too many of us fighting in high places to not be targets. And in the end we lost one.'

'Wh-who was it, Mrs Weasley?' asked Hermione tentatively.

'Charlie,' said Mrs Weasley, like she'd already told the tale to a thousand people. 'It was Charlie.'

'How did it happen?' asked Harry.

'You-Know-Who set a dragon loose. Charlie went to help reign it in. He was so brave, hardly anyone else tried to help. Too scared to get involved in case You-Know-Who targeted them. They managed to tie it down but just as they thought it was subdued it lashed its tail. Charlie was hit. The Healers said it would have been instant. He wouldn't have known much about it. That's some comfort, I suppose. He didn't suffer.'

Her tone drifted off. There wasn't anything to say and Harry felt that anything worthwhile had probably been said already by people more eloquent than himself. They followed Mrs Weasley as she led the way indoors where they were met in the kitchen by the surviving Weasley's, Fleur, Tonks, Lupin and several others Harry didn't recognise. As soon as he and Hermione were in sight Ron approached them. He looked at Harry's hand, intertwined with Hermione's. Harry couldn't remember that happening. He knew he should draw away, but her touch was comforting in the grief. From the vice like grip she was giving him he suspected she felt the same. He couldn't have broken contact even if he wanted to, which he didn't.

Ron nodded towards a quiet corner and led Harry there. He could barely look at Hermione, but his expression was strained, regretful, along with the lines of anguish cut deep by his brother's death. The three of them huddled close, spoke in whispers, mindful of the absent dead.

'Thanks for coming,' Ron mumbled.

'Of course,' said Harry. 'How are you all doing?'

'Mum's been a right state since it happened,' said Ron. 'Ginny's been pretty much the same but Dad's been as bad as anyone. He hasn't spoken a word for ages.'

'Maybe he's in shock,' said Hermione, glancing at Mr Weasley slumped at the table looking glazed.

'That's what mum thinks,' said Ron, following Hermione's gaze to his father. 'But I don't think he's even spoken to her very much. Speaking of _speaking,_ do you both have a minute, you know, to talk about things? About what happened with us?'

_Is this really the time,_ Harry thought. He was amazed when Hermione replied with exactly those words. It was the second time in quick succession. Harry reeled a bit from the connection.

'I just want to clear everything up,' said Ron. 'Hermione? Will you take a walk with me?'

Hermione looked like she'd rather do anything but, until Harry gave her an encouraging smile and a look that said plainly ' _just get it over with'_. Hermione nodded mutely and followed Ron into the garden, leaving Harry quite alone near the kitchen. He trained one ear on the back door, half-expecting raised voices from a classic Ron/Hermione row. He hoped Ron wouldn't upset her. A possessive, corrosive force rose like a torrent in Harry's chest. He genuinely concerned himself with what he might do to Ron, if Hermione came in tear-stained.

Then another concern hit him, and this one was a low blow to the gut. What if they were making up? Or, ten times worse, making out? What if Hermione was thinking herself hasty in breaking it off with Ron? It occurred to Harry now that Hermione had never formally told Ron that they were finished. He might logically think that she simply wasn't talking to him after their spat and the nasty manner in which he spoke to her.

It was certainly feasible.

That was simply the nature of their relationship, the way they often were with each other. It was how their life together would have been. And Hermione had tried to make herself _content_ with that.

The thought sat ugly on Harry's mind and he found himself aching at the very notion. Aching for an imagined Hermione's downtrodden status. Belittled, unfilled, _content -_ because she was afraid she had little other choice. Harry hated this train of thought, depressing and desperate. But it answered one potent question for him.

He definitely fancied Hermione.

He couldn't pinpoint the moment it had happened, but the truth hit him like a Bludger to the face. There was no longer any doubt. Ron couldn't make her happy.

And Harry was dying to prove that he could.

And she so totally deserved to be happy. Harry utterly, completely fancied her, and the force of it was overwhelming, now it was swimming through him, threatening to consume him. Only now, as he thought on it, shifting from foot to foot and awaiting her return, he found the concept of 'fancying' woefully childish and inadequate in relation to her. He had fancied Cho, Fleur, Ginny. Even Luna was fanciable, but too eccentric for Harry's taste, despite her big heart. Hermione superseded such a notion. Harry feared to think what name he would give it. These sensations were so new and raw to him, he was loathe to make such a monumental leap.

But it was there, unvoiced and unacknowledged, sitting in the back of his mind, waiting to be processed and weighed. His heart sighed wearily, and tapped its foot with thinning patience.

Harry shrugged back his grandiose ideas and stood looking around at the Weasley's instead, unsure of what to say. He had never been very good in situations like this. He remembered the time when he'd seen Mr Weasley bitten by Voldemort's snake and they had all gone to Grimmauld Place to wait for news. He hadn't known the right things to say then and the situation felt almost identical now. He decided it was best to stay silent, to not intrude on the grief and speak only when spoken to.

Ron and Hermione were gone for ten minutes. It seemed like a lifetime to Harry, but when they returned he was encouraged. Hermione gave him a little smile and Ron nodded somewhat awkwardly. It was if they'd shared a secret and Harry wasn't allowed to know it.

'We've... well, we've cleared everything up,' said Hermione quietly. She had tucked up close to Harry. He shifted nervously. He wasn't used to being nervous around Hermione. He didn't know what to do.

'Yeah, we've cleared the air, sorted everything,' Ron continued. Harry's heart nosedived. What exactly did _sorted_ mean? _Were_ they back together? Harry felt sick at the idea.

Hermione seemed to sense the rise in Harry's anxiety. Her eyes danced, almost gleefully, as she processed the possibilities of Harry's change of mood. Or was he just imagining it?

'We've agreed our break-up was for the best,' Hermione said. There was such relief in her eyes that Harry couldn't help smiling at it.

'Yeah,' Ron agreed. 'Neither of us liked the idea of kissing a sibling, and that's what it was like. Just wanna say sorry, mate. I didn't want to put you in the middle of it. I was a selfish twat about the whole thing. Hope you don't curse me for blaming you.'

'Not at all, mate,' said Harry, now swept with relief himself. 'You're not the first one to have that idea. Me and Hermione were only talking about that yesterday.'

Ron's eyebrows shot up suggestively. He looked curiously from Harry to Hermione, then back again. Whatever devious thought was crossing his mind, however, he kept to himself. Harry couldn't help but feel oddly exposed at Ron's shrewd expression though. It was as if he'd read Harry's diary, and knew his deepest secrets, and was letting him know through a look. At that moment, Harry was glad he didn't keep a diary. Imagine that getting out?

'So, are we...are we all okay now?' Harry asked to break the simmering tension.

'Yeah, think so,' replied Ron, casting a questioning look at Hermione. She nodded her agreement.

'Well...good,' said Harry. 'We never do well apart, do we? No chance of beating Vol - You-Know-Smegging-Who - if we're fighting each other',

Ron leaned in close to Harry (and consequently, Hermione, as she was so close), cast a surreptitious glance at his gathered family, and asked quietly if they had had any luck with the Horcruxes.

'Yeah,' said Harry, keeping his voice low. 'We found one at Hogwarts, d'you believe that? Gryffindor's armour was one. It was the suit in the corridor by the painting of the Fat Lady.'

'Wow,' said Ron. 'It was right under Dumbledore's nose all that time. How did it get in though? Surely You-Know-Who would have had to make it into a Horcrux fairly recently.'

'Not necessarily,' said Hermione. 'He was trying to learn to do them when he was at school. One of his first killings might have been made when he was still here and he used the suit of armour then. Maybe when he used the basilisk to kill Moaning Myrtle. Plus, we don't know how long the suit has been at the school. It looked a lot older than the other ones.'

'It doesn't matter,' said Harry, who could sense an argument brewing. 'It's been destroyed anyway. All other whys and wherefores are irrelevant.'

'You destroyed it?' said Ron, sounding both impressed and disappointed to have missed it. 'How?'

'I made it possess me and Hermione had to curse me till the part of Voldemort's soul was destroyed,' Harry explained.

'You let it possess you?' said Ron, both sounding and looking horrified at the thought. 'You took a piece of You-Know-Who's soul into you? By choice?'

'Pretty much,' said Harry, alarmed by the burgeoning awed look on Ron's face. He had quite enough star struck fans and he didn't need his friend to be one too. 'I forced Hermione to do Unforgivable Curses on me. I shouldn't have done that. I feel awful about it.'

'Wow,' said Ron. 'You're both mental!'

'It had to be done,' said Hermione sniffily. 'There wasn't any other choice. But hexing Harry to within an inch of his life was hardly my idea of a fun afternoon. I didn't think that fighting Voldemort would involve us fighting each other, too.'

'What was it you liked to say?' said Harry. 'Voldemort spreads enmity and discord from within? Or something mad like that.'

'Y-you remembered my words?' said Hermione. Harry noticed another sweeping semi-grin cross Ron's eyes as he looked between them, but it was gone as quickly as it arrived.

'Well, you did keep saying them,' said Harry. 'Kind of ingrained on my skull after that.'

'Shut up, Harry,' said Hermione, playfully slapping his arm but grinning all the time. 'I do not keep on about things.'

Harry coughed trying to conceal a veiled 'SPEW' within it. Even Ron gave a half-smirk to this as Hermione slapped Harry again.

'Which reminds me,' said Harry, and he explained about Dumbledore's will and all the things he'd been left.

'Money! He gave you money?' said Ron in disbelief.

'Lots of it,' said Harry, who was feeling embarrassed about this now. 'I don't know why.'

'That's obvious,' said Ron. 'You always were his favourite and he never had any children of his own, did he? You were probably the closest thing he ever had to a son. He might have even felt like you were a bit.'

There was a knock at the door that interrupted the conversation. Fred got up to answer the door, opening to a tall, thin man with wispy orange hair. He was some relative Harry had never met.

'My uncle Gerald,' said Ron. 'He's the Accountant we never talk about. Better go and say hello.'

Ron sidled away to join his family as they accepted the commiserations of the newcomer. Harry sidled up to Hermione feeling more apart from the Weasley family than ever.

'I could use some air, Harry,' said Hermione. 'Shall we leave them to welcome their uncle?'

Harry nodded enthusiastically and followed Hermione to the door. They passed Fred and Bill on the way, both of whom shook Harry's hand and clasped him on the shoulder as they thanked him for coming. This made Harry feel even worse as he just felt more useless than ever.

Once in the garden, Hermione led the way though the back gate and into the field behind the house.

'Nice path,' said Harry irritably as his shoes sank into soft mud.

'Sorry, I just couldn't stay in there,' said Hermione. 'The atmosphere - its so dreadful. If death could ever be a presence, that's what it might feel like. Its's horrible. I don't know what to say about Charlie to the family. I feel so terrible for them. What can you do though? They are all family and they can console each other, much more than we can. I feel so outside of it.'

'Me too,' said Harry. 'Perhaps its better that way. We don't feel it as much.'

'Are you joking?' said Hermione. 'I feel it badly. I just keep thinking -'

She broke off suddenly and looked away.

'Thinking what?' asked Harry.

'I just keep thinking,' said Hermione slowly, 'what if...what if it was you. I couldn't stand it, I just couldn't. Does that make me a terrible person? The Weasley's have just lost a son and all I can think about is...well, myself. I couldn't bear it if that happened to you. If you die, Harry, I don't think I could go on.'

'What are you talking about?' said Harry. 'That's a silly thing to say. Of course you could go on.'

'I couldn't,' said Hermione. Her voice was so fragile that Harry felt a searing urge to hug her, in case she fell to pieces.

'Why are you saying this?' said Harry. 'I'm not going to promise I won't die, you know I can't, but I don't like thinking about what you'd do if I did. Where has all this extra concern for me come from?'

'This isn't _extra_ concern, Harry, I've always been this het up about you.'

Harry's heart skipped at the words, the idea. He was sure he wasn't breathing normally. That couldn't be healthy. He felt his heart had crouched expectantly. It was going to do something rash any moment, whether Harry felt powerful enough to stop it or not.

'I've just been thinking over the last few days,' Hermione went on.

'What - more than normal? Because I doubt that's possible,' Harry teased.

'I'm being _serious.'_ And she utterly was. 'I've been thinking about some of the things you've been saying to me - about me - and some of the things I've been feeling because of it. I haven't been able to _stop_ thinking about it, actually. It's had me all shades of confused. I've been pushing these thoughts back for ages, until you started saying those things to me. Then I couldn't help it.'

'What things?'

'The sorts of things that I've wished you would say to me for years, but that I thought you never, ever would. Not you. Not to me. You'd never say things like that to me, because there was no chance in hell you'd ever think them. No matter how often I fantasized that you would.'

Harry was deeply curious now. 'Are you ever going to tell me _what things,_ or do they have to remain in a fantasy world of my own?'

'Things like...you find me attractive,' said Hermione, adorably shy in her delivery of the words. 'You did mean that...didn't you?'

For a second, Harry allowed himself to dream where this was going. His heart started to pound hard again, thudding in his ears and causing him to shake like a leaf in a gale. Harry, bravely, as fitting his persona, took Hermione by the shoulders and turned her to him. It was time to throw caution away.

'Hermione - I've never meant anything more sincerely.'

She gasped. 'I just can't imagine that, Harry. Or why. Can I ask you a question, and demand total truth?'

'Always,' said Harry gently.

'Promise? Promise you'll tell the truth. If you have ever been my friend, had even the slightest inclination for me, please promise to answer this truthfully.'

'I promise.'

'Is there...do you think...Merlin, this sounds ludicrous to even _say_...do you think there would ever be a time, a way, that you could... _fancy_ me?'

Hermione looked on the verge of tears such was her nervousness at the statement. It was so cute that Harry forgot to answer right away. Hermione saw it as rejection, and moved to qualify her question.

'I mean, not as much as Cho or Ginny, or good-looking girls like that,' she said quickly. 'I'm not that stupid. But would you... _have you_...ever thought about me like that?'

Harry stepped in close. His bravery was replaced by something else...assuredness, certainty. It didn't quell the nervous fluttering, but his heart and body now ached for a pay off that as little as ten minutes ago seemed a world away.

'Hermione - I _do_ fancy you. Right here, right now.'

She sucked in a breath, perhaps the most surprised one she had ever taken. 'You...you do? Since when?'

'It's been coming on so gradually I hardly know,' said Harry. 'But I only knew 100% for sure when I was standing back there in the kitchen. I thought, if you came back and said you were back with Ron, I might hex him.'

Hermione laughed. 'Don't do that. He was very understanding.'

Harry was confused. 'Understanding. About what?'

'The real reason for our break up. Ron was right all along. I couldn't stay with him, because I've only ever wanted to be _with you_ '.

For all of Harry's certain hope, hearing Hermione say the words floored him. He would have fallen, he was sure of it, but at that moment Hermione stepped into him and pressed her lips to his. He returned her kiss, deep, tender, filling in blanks in his heart he hadn't known were so vast. Hermione filled them all in one brush of her soft lips. The kiss became a hug, one that lasted for the longest time. And there, in the field behind the Weasley's garden, two lost souls became one.


	11. Fleur's Wedding and a Funeral

The next few days were some of the most strained Harry had ever experienced. He and Hermione would go to the Burrow straight after breakfast and not leave until late into the night. Each visit was like a carbon copy of the last; long, sombre silences where few words were spoken, visits by relatives and well-wishers come to pay their respects, awkward conversations and a lot of tears.

It was during these days that Harry came to realise just how much he appreciated Hermione, feeling more attached to her with each visit, something he hadn't had thought possible prior to this. They were together in their feelings, both considering themselves separate from the grief of the Weasley's and clinging close to each other in response to this. They would sit side by side around the Weasley's fireplace as the family recounted stories of Charlie and vaunted his virtues, an exercise Harry couldn't understand as it just led to one or more members of the family breaking down with the pain of it all.

The only part Harry could attribute anything positive to was that he could put his arm around Hermione or hold her hand and it would seem like they were just comforting each other. His sentiment here was, he accepted, selfish but he had his own emotional investment to be concerned with. Besides, with each tale of Charlie, Harry couldn't help but think back to Hermione's words and replace Charlie with her. He tried hard to not imagine similar scenes with Hermione as the victim, but she had crept so surreptitiously close to his heart that he couldn't help it. The thought of sharing stories about her life and mourning her death struck Harry so far to the core that he thought he was experiencing a sense of theoretical loss close to the actual grief the Weasley family were enduring.

After a couple of days of constant visits to the Burrow, Ron actually started talking to Hermione with a creditable degree of civility. Harry felt a sense of gratitude towards him that he was taking considerable pains to bridge the gulf that was threatening to open up between them. Hermione received his efforts with somewhat guarded gratuity herself, as if she suspected they were false. Harry thought she was being a little harsh and told her so.

'And don't think I'm taking his side, because I'm not,' he added to her. 'I just think he is honestly trying. Don't you think he deserves a chance?'

'He doesn't deserve one, no,' Hermione replied. 'Not after the way he spoke to me. But I am giving him a chance. It's a last chance, though. If he upsets me again, that's it. We're finished. Then you have to choose.'

'Choose what?'

'Between me and Ron,' said Hermione simply.

'Well,' said Harry thoughtfully. 'I think I'd have to go with you. Ron doesn't shave very well and his stubble might tickle if I kiss him. Then again, your stubble tickles me sometimes. Yeah – I think it'd better be you.'

'Oi!' said Hermione as she made for Harry's ribs. 'I'll give you tickling!'

'Is that a promise?' said Harry in his best impersonation of a sultry voice.

'Maybe later, if you're lucky,' said Hermione as she turned back to collecting dishes from the dresser. It was nearly dark at the Burrow and Hermione and volunteered her and Harry to make dinner for the family, as Mrs Weasley seemed so fatigued. Harry had a sneaking suspicion that Hermione had a dual motivation for offering to cook and getting Harry alone was the chief priority. If they made food in the meantime it was just a bonus.

'I'm serious about Ron, though,' said Harry, adding cutlery to Hermione's plate laying. 'Everyone deserves a chance to redeem themselves. If we don't forgive we become as bad as those black hearted scum we're trying to fight.'

'I didn't know they taught philosophy at Hogwarts,' said Hermione sardonically. 'I'll have to complain to McGonagall about not offering it to me.'

'You're funny,' said Harry. 'You should be on the stage. I think there's one leaving soon!'

'Ho ho ho,' said Hermione.

'Sorry, but you don't make a very good Father Christmas,' said Harry.

'I'll take that as a compliment, meaning I'm not fat,' said Hermione. 'Anyway, you're right about the forgiving thing. I forgave you after all.'

'For what?'

'For staying away from me for so long,' said Hermione. 'For all your dalliances with other girls when you could have been giving me a chance.'

'Ah, you had my _dalliances_ in mind,' said Harry. 'Now I understand the 'ho, ho, ho'. Anyone particular in mind?'

'Take your pick,' said Hermione sharply.

'Me-ow!' said Harry mimicking a cat. 'Speaking of which, do you think it's hygienic to cook with Crookshanks in here?'

The bandy legged cat stopped circling Harry's legs and eyed him mutinously.

'Crookshanks isn't diseased, are you Crookshanks?' said Hermione scooping her cat into her arms.

'I'm sure he isn't,' said Harry. 'But if I get any ginger hairs in my food you and I will be swapping plates!'

'How romantic!' cried Hermione. 'I have missed Crookshanks, though. Would it be okay to take him back home with us tonight?'

'We'll be like a real family then,' Harry teased as he smoothed Crookshanks. 'Yeah, why not. He'll bring some colour to the place if nothing else.'

Harry and Hermione were joined by the Weasley's for dinner later. As usual there was very little conversation, aside from the odd compliment on the food. Once all the plates had been cleared most of the family removed themselves back to the living room. Harry, however, went into the garden for some air and to shake off the depression which always descended on him when the grief of the others got too much. He was surprised to find himself presently joined in the garden by Fleur.

'Ello, 'Arry,' she said. 'Zat was a vury nice deener. I must compliment you.'

'It was mostly Hermione,' he replied. 'I didn't do much.'

'You seem vury close, you and 'Er-my-o-nee,' said Fleur. 'It is obvious zat you 'ave great affection for each uzzer.'

'Is it?' said Harry, thinking worriedly about Ron.

'Oh yes,' said Fleur. 'I zink it is wonderful. Zat anyone can be 'appy at a time such as zis – it is so good to see.'

Harry was hit by a thunderbolt of understanding. In all the time that everyone was grieving over Charlie's death it seemed as though all thoughts of the wedding of Fleur and Bill had been forgotten.

'Of course,' said Harry. 'The wedding was supposed to be soon. Has it been put off?'

'I do not know,' said Fleur sadly. 'Bill az not said anyzing, and I do not want to mention it. It is a difficult time.'

'I'm sorry,' said Harry. 'It must be hard for you, too. I bet you don't get much consideration in all this.'

'You are so lovely, 'Arry,' said Fleur in her seductive French tones. 'But dere is no need to feel sorry for me, not for something like dis. Bill is to be my husband and I love him, our marriage will wait while he grieves.'

Harry felt a pang of pity for Fleur so strong it reminded him of the time when he met Luna Lovegood looking for her stolen possessions. He felt angry that she should be excluded; she was to be part of the family after all.

'You shouldn't feel like an outsider,' said Harry. 'Not like me and Hermione do. Bill is your fiancé; this is going to be your family. They shouldn't keep you out.'

'I cannot intrude,' said Fleur. 'The boys are okay with me, and Molly is better than she was. Some people want to keep me far away though.'

Harry's anger boiled. He knew, of course, to whom Fleur was referring.

'I wouldn't pay _her_ any attention,' said Harry angrily. 'She's just a petty brat when something isn't to her liking. Ignore her, that's the best way.'

'I try,' said Fleur sounding pitiful. 'But she calls me a name. I do not know what zis means but it cannot be nice.'

'Listen to me,' said Harry forcefully. 'She is the one who isn't nice. You're great, you really are. Bill knows how lucky he is, I'm sure of it. And if you're good enough for him you should be good enough for the rest of them. Don't be afraid to offer you're support, I'm sure they'll appreciate it.'

'Thank you, 'Arry,' said Fleur. She stood up, for they had been sitting on the wall facing the kitchen, and kissed Harry on the cheek. 'Er-my-o-nee is one lucky girl to 'ave you.'

With that she swept away from him and into the house. Harry was about to follow her inside when he was called from the other side of the garden. He followed the voice to find Bill standing in a shrubbery smoking a long pipe.

'Mum doesn't like it,' said Bill holding the pipe up. 'I gave it up years ago but I needed some to calm me down after what's happened.'

'I can imagine,' said Harry.

'I saw you talking with Fleur,' said Bill blowing smoke rings into the chilly night air. 'Not trying to steal my fiancé, are you?'

'Like I could,' said Harry glad to see the joking look on Bill's face. 'But, if you don't mind me saying, I think you could do with paying her a bit more attention.'

'Excuse me?'

'I know you've lost your brother,' said Harry unabashed by Bill's accusing tone, 'but you do have a fiancé who loves you very much and who is grieving too. She needs you, needs to feel she can support you. What she doesn't need is to feel excluded by a family she has tried damned hard to make love her as I know you do. And they are efforts falling on deaf ears. You could spare a little of your time on her, despite how difficult this time is for all of you.'

Bill considered Harry as if seeing him properly for the first time. 'You're growing into a wise man, Harry. Dumbledore would be proud of you. I hadn't thought of it like that. I've been a terrible partner, haven't I?'

'No, you've lost a brother to Voldemort,' said Harry. 'You've got an excuse, but it goes only so far.'

'Did she tell you this, Fleur?' said Bill. 'Did she say she's unhappy?'

'You have lost a brother, how else do you think she's going to feel?' said Harry.

'I meant with me, is she unhappy about that?'

'I don't think I'm the one you should be asking these questions to,' said Harry.

'But I am,' said Bill. 'Please, Harry?'

'No, she isn't unhappy,' said Harry. 'But she has prepared for a wedding that she isn't sure her fiancé wants to go through with any time soon. And she can't say anything to you because she thinks it will make her look selfish.'

'Why hasn't she said any of this to me?'

'She shouldn't have to, should she?' said Harry. 'I'm going to go back inside. Just consider this – as much as your family is hurting they can cling to each other for support. Fleur only has you. Spare some of yourself for her.'

Satisfied at having said his piece, Harry made his way back indoors. He found Hermione washing dishes in the sink, walked up behind her and slid his arms around her waist. He used his chin to brush Hermione's hair behind her ear and rested his head in the crook of her neck.

'Do you think that's a good idea?' said Hermione, backing into him.

'Do you think I care?' Harry replied, gently kissing Hermione's neck. He felt a shiver run through her skin and goose bumps popped up against his cheek.

'Harry,' said Hermione breathlessly. 'Don't do that.'

'I'm sorry,' said Harry. 'What did I do wrong?'

'Nothing, that's the problem,' said Hermione smiling. 'Just don't kiss me there. I'm really sensitive on my neck. The slightest touch and I go nuts. It's hardly appropriate.'

'Really sensitive, eh?' said Harry mischievously. 'I'll keep that in mind.'

'You'd better,' said Hermione turning round. She looked around before giving him a quick kiss and moving away. Harry noticed she seemed to be almost skipping, a sight he found very odd indeed.

'Well at least I know the real reason we broke up,' said a voice from the doorway. Harry looked up to see Ginny standing there looking furious.

'That wasn't why we broke up, but if it makes you feel better believe it by all means,' said Harry, matching her angry tone with one of his own.

'You could have just said,' said Ginny fiercely, 'instead of lying to me. You could have just been honest about liking someone else.'

'I hadn't realised it myself then,' said Harry. 'I've got you to thank, really. If you hadn't been so horrid to me then I might not have wanted to leave here in the first place. Then Hermione wouldn't have come to me and I might never have worked it out.'

'Funny how you can be so easy breaking up your best friend's relationship,' said Ginny. 'I would never have thought you were so selfish.'

'That's rich coming from you,' said Harry. 'Dean Thomas was just another notch on your bedpost, I suppose. I think we're mixing up the easy one out of you and me.'

Ginny fumed and Harry could almost sense the rage coming off her so acted first.

'Don't even think about hexing me,' said Harry, who felt for his own wand in any case. 'You may impress everyone with that little Bat-Bogey Hex of yours but I'm preparing an arsenal of weapons to fight Voldemort with. If you want to compare spell strength I'm all for it. But I have some tissues to wipe up those flying boogies you like to conjure.'

'I hope you wouldn't seriously curse my sister,' said Ron who had entered the kitchen after hearing the commotion. 'I can forgive you for breaking up with her but I'm not too sure about breaking her nose.'

'Yeah, do you think you could take us both?' said Ginny arrogantly.

Ron snapped towards her. 'Shut up, Ginny! Harry could probably take us both but I wouldn't even try. I wouldn't want to fight him.'

'But he broke you and Hermione up,' said Ginny, a trace of desperation in her voice. 'Doesn't that make you mad?'

'Harry didn't break us up,' said Ron. 'Me and Hermione were responsible for that. We weren't right for each other and we would have come apart sooner or later. We didn't need anyone's help to do that.'

Ginny looked stumped. She clearly hadn't counted on this response.

'Besides,' Ron continued. 'If you did manage to do anything to Harry do you think Hermione wouldn't react? She's the only person whose power can compare to Harry's and there's an old saying about a woman scorned. Hermione could hex you to bits.'

'Aaargh, Ron! Sometimes I just can't believe you! I can't _believe_ you!' said Ginny angrily before turning on her heel and storming out.

'Sorry about that,' said Ron. 'You know what she's like. She'll get over it – no offence or anything.'

'None taken,' said Harry smirking. 'I wouldn't really have cursed her, you know.'

'I know,' said Ron. 'Though I could've understood if you had.'

For the first time in what Harry deeply realised was ages, they laughed together. Harry was shocked by how much he had missed it.

'So,' said Ron looking shrewd. 'You and Hermione, eh?'

'Just a little,' said Harry grinning back.

'Good for you, mate,' said Ron.

'You mean that?' said Harry. 'I thought you'd be mad.'

'Nah,' said Ron waving his hand. 'I've had a lot of time to stew. Me and her weren't right, dunno why. There was just something missing, something you and her have obviously got. I've been watching you, seeing how you look at each other. We didn't have that. I always thought there was something between you and I often wondered why you hadn't given it a go.'

'You should have said something to me, opened my eyes a bit sooner,' said Harry.

'Yeah, maybe. You are a bit blind when it comes to this sort of thing. But I'm over it; I was more angry that I'd lost her than anything. I treated her a bit like a possession but I've had a lot of time on my own since you've been gone and I've woken up to myself. I've, um, been a bit lonely to be honest. Then you and Hermione tell me stories about going after Horcruxes and stuff and I realised I've been an idiot. I really want to make it up to Hermione. Do you think she'll let me?'

'You'll have to work hard,' said Harry. 'You really hurt her with some of the things you said. She doesn't always let it show but she's really sensitive. She feels insults really badly.'

'I will make it up to her,' said Ron. 'If it takes me ten years I'll do it. Can I ask you a question?'

'Since when have you had to ask if you can ask a question?'

'I was just checking,' said Ron. 'I just want to ask if I can come with you when you find the next Horcrux?'

'If that's what you want I won't say no,' said Harry. 'I think I could use all the help I can get to destroy them. Besides, I don't want Hermione to do all the dirty work alone. I already feel really guilty about what I made her do with the last one. I know I couldn't have done it to her.'

'I bet she doesn't blame you,' said Ron. 'She wouldn't look at you with those puppy dog eyes if she did!'

'Shut up!' said Harry, grinning.

* * *

Charlie was buried in a quiet ceremony at the end of the week in the cemetery just outside the village. Mr Weasley stood up to deliver the eulogy, something Harry thought was very brave considering he had barely spoken for a week, and he was buried with enchantments for a safe passage into the next world. Harry found this part very uncomfortable; he had considered in fleeting moments the nature of life after death, especially after his chat with Nearly Headless Nick after Sirius had died, and he wondered morbidly about the nature of it all.

He and Hermione left the cemetery hand in hand next to Ron and the twins. The latter strode on ahead leaving the three left to walk on in silence.

'Strange, isn't it?' said Ron, more to himself than anyone. 'It happened days ago but it only feels like he's gone now. Isn't that weird?'

'It's the finality of the ceremony,' said Hermione. 'It's a last chance to say goodbye. After that, the healing process can begin.'

'I suppose,' said Ron doubtfully. He looked closer to tears than Harry had ever seen him since he had arrived with Hagrid that night. 'At least there's some good news on the horizon.'

'What?' asked Harry.

'Fleur and Bill are going to go ahead with the wedding,' said Ron. 'They had a chat with mum last night and they agreed it was what Charlie would have wanted. Bit weird, I think, but its happening.'

It was true. After the wake the next few days saw a slow return to a passable impression of normality. Mrs Weasley, who Harry reckoned was compensating for her grief over Charlie by throwing herself back into the wedding plans, busied herself with the catering arrangements while Fleur concentrated on her dress and flowers and Bill sent owls to all the guests who had been invited to tell them it was going ahead.

Harry and Hermione were spending less time at the Burrow and more time at Grimmauld Place, where Ron was a daily visitor. There spent most of their time poring over the list of spells Dumbledore had created, testing them on each other, and also planning for the last of the Horcrux hunts.

'The way I see it,' said Harry, 'three of the Horcruxes are down. The diary, the ring and something that belonged to Gryffindor. That leaves the locket, the cup and the snake.'

'But didn't that note say the locket had been destroyed?' asked Ron.

'I'm not going to take that chance,' said Harry. 'That ring nearly killed Dumbledore, who was more powerful than any wizard going. Whoever this R.A.B person is we have to track them down and make sure the locket is gone, or destroy that ourselves. Now, Voldemort's snake goes everywhere with him and at some stage he and I are going to meet again. At that battle the snake will be destroyed before I finish the rest of Voldemort. That means we are looking for the cup or who this R.A.B person is. Hermione I think that is your area of expertise.'

'I'll do my best,' said Hermione. 'But I might need the Hogwarts library.'

'McGonagall said we can come and go as we please,' said Harry. 'That isn't a problem. Finding the cup will be trickier, but Voldemort first found it working at Borgin and Burkes that might be a good place to start.'

'I don't think they'll give up information like that very easily,' said Ron.

'Look, if Draco bloody Malfoy can bully Borgin I'm pretty sure I can scare seven shades of shite out of him!' said Harry passionately.

They were all plans for the future, though, for attending the wedding came first and Harry placed a high priority on the event. The day came, two weeks after Charlie had been buried, and the ceremony was held in the field outside the Burrow. A huge marquee had been erected the size of a football field and was filled with over a hundred circular tables, a stage, a bar and a dance floor. Everything was white, from the tablecloths to the seat cushions, and it was a dazzling sight, not least because of the thousands of live fairies clustered at the top of the marquee.

The ceremony itself was conducted at the top of Stoatshead Hill. A small stage had been set up along with seats for the guests. The minister arrived and beckoned Bill towards him. Not long after, Ginny, looking grumpy, and Fleur's sister, Gabrielle, who beamed at everyone and waved madly at Harry when she caught his eye, came walking down the aisle scattering handfuls of red and white rose petals. Once they were seated the wedding march was struck up and Fleur, accompanied by her father, made her way to the front. She looked stunning in a flowing gown which glittered and twinkled in the early morning sunlight. Harry took one look at her father at realised right away that it wasn't from him that Fleur had received her breathtaking looks.

Harry found himself quite surprised at how boring the wedding ceremony actually was. As soon as the minister started talking Harry found his attention wandering. Gabrielle looked around at him occasionally and waved, reminding Harry poignantly of Ginny when she was younger and star struck by him. The rest of Fleur's family seemed a pretty rigid bunch and Harry fancied that Fleur's initial fastidious personality traits had descended from several generations of French wizards who seemed to think a little too much of themselves.

All in all Harry was glad when the minister pronounced Bill and Fleur man and wife. He was surprised that the minister hadn't invited Bill to kiss his bride, but then remembered he wasn't watching a Hollywood movie. Row by row the congregation followed Bill and Fleur from the top of Stoatshead Hill back towards the Burrow, where most of the guests who weren't invited to the ceremony had now arrived. Ron parted with Harry and Hermione at the entrance to the marquee, as all the family were seated together, and Harry found their places on a little map just inside the huge tent.

'Right at the front,' he said to Hermione, reading from the map. 'Look! We're sat with Neville and Luna. I didn't even know they'd been invited.'

'Looks like half the Wizarding community has been,' said Hermione, indicating the massed seats. 'Come on lets get there before it gets too congested.'

They weaved their way through the crowd and found their table. It was right at the front next to an aisle separating the marquee in two. Harry, being a gentleman, held Hermione's seat for her, but banged it too hard into her legs as he pushed it in, causing her to collapse into it.

'Sorry,' he said, trying not to laugh.

'It's your first time, so I'll forgive you,' said Hermione rubbing behind her knee. 'Just be a bit gentler next time.'

Harry sat down and picked up a bottle of wine from the centre of the table.

'I've never had wine before, not really anyway,' said Harry.

'What do you mean?'

'Well, I snuck some from the Dursleys one Christmas,' said Harry. 'Just to try, you know. I didn't like it much.'

Despite this recollection Harry poured full glasses for himself and Hermione. He sipped at his, mimicking Hermione, and found that the taste wasn't at all as bad as he remembered.

'That's not bad, is it?' said Harry, sipping larger amounts.

'No, it's quite nice,' Hermione replied. 'Just don't go getting drunk now.'

'Why? Be too tempted to take advantage of me, would you?' Harry teased.

'That's a thought,' said Hermione mischievously. 'More?'

Before Harry could answer a dreamy voice floated over to them. Luna had arrived with Neville in tow.

'Hello,' she said. 'I thought I'd find Neville before coming to sit down. He does get a bit backwards at things sometimes.'

Harry, as always, was alarmed at Luna's complete ease with speaking uncomfortable truths. In this case, though, he thought she might have been right in her actions.

'Hi,' said Hermione brightly. 'Have you both come on your own?'

'Oh no,' said Neville, who was wearing an odd black shirt and green tie combination. 'Gran's over there with some of the, er, _senior_ people. They all seemed to have been grouped together.'

'And Dad's with some people from the Daily Prophet,' said Luna. 'They'll have good fun chatting about the latest news on the fire-breathing Elbelows spotted near Cornwall.'

Hermione raised her eyebrows but seemed to concede there was little point in arguing with Luna. Harry noticed she looked rather pretty in a forget-me-not blue dress with matching sparkly shoes. She seemed to be wearing her hair differently too and Harry thought she looked much more normal for it. The four of them talked about what they had been doing since the end of school, Harry and Hermione lying so much that it was a surprise their noses didn't grow a foot or two, and Luna told them all about the new regime at Hogwarts.

'It isn't really the same, you know,' she said dreamily. 'It's all about work and there's hardly any fun. They've stopped Quidditch, because it isn't safe for the players to be out late training, and there won't be any Hogsmeade trips until the war is over.'

'Have many people gone back?' asked Harry swallowing a potato, as the meals had been served by this time.

'Not many,' said Luna. 'There aren't any Slytherins at all. But they are all evil, aren't they? Most Gryffindors seem to be back and about half from the other houses, but the school does feel rather empty. It's more lonely than usual.'

Harry again felt sorry for Luna, imagining her wandering the halls of Hogwarts alone but for the taunts and people stealing her things. She seemed cheery enough, though, but Harry couldn't help feeling that was just her way and pitying her even more because of it.

The wine, Harry noticed, was having an unusual effect on him. He had never in his life been anywhere near drunk but by the time he had polished off his chocolate pudding he fancied himself quite close to it. Everything seemed warm, especially his head, and the world seemed to wobble if he moved too sharply. And, which was the most alarming aspect, he was giggling. Giggling like a crazy person. But he wasn't the only one. Their entire table was in fits of laughter over what some deep and impenetrable part of Harry's brain knew was ridiculous. He, Hermione and Neville could blame the wine but Luna was just mad that way naturally.

After the speeches, during which Bill's best man entertained them all with embarrassing tales from their childhood, husband and wife took to the dance floor. The band struck up their number and Bill and Fleur began some crazy jive to the music. They were soon joined by the best man and his wife, Mr and Mrs Weasley, several other couples Harry didn't know and George with a girl Harry recognised as Verity, the girl from the twins' joke shop.

'Let's all go and dance,' said Harry. 'It'll be a laugh.'

'I'm not dancing, said Hermione flatly.

'You owe me a dance from three years ago,' said Harry. 'Besides, if you'll dance with Victor Krum you can dance with me. Come on.'

Harry grabbed Hermione by the wrist and dragged her to the floor, where Neville and Luna joined them. They stayed there for ages, number after number, while others came and went. After a time they were joined by Ron, who looked as worse for wear as Harry felt.

'Mind if I – _hic_ – join you?' he said ambling over.

'Are you sure you can stand up?' asked Harry.

'What? Oh yeah, s'no problem, s'no problem,' said Ron. 'Strong stuff that Firewhiskey. Oh, hello Luna, you a'right?'

'Yes, thank you,' said Luna serenely. 'Dad says too much Firewhiskey can make your face explode.'

Ron looked horrified and starting grabbing his face. He looked at Hermione who shook her head. Ron calmed down and turned back to Luna.

'You're funny, you know?' he said. 'You make me _laugh_ like you wouldn't believe. Do some commentary again, like we're at Quidditch.'

An odd thought struck Harry as he watched Ron talking to Luna. As quickly as it arrived it filtered away from his mind as impossible. But there was something about the way Ron was looking at Luna, not only because he didn't seem able to keep his eyes on her face. Hermione noticed this too.

'Pure class, isn't he?' she called over the music. 'You know, in some countries that's not legal.'

'I'm not sure it is here,' said Harry. 'Is she sixteen yet?'

'I'm not sure,' said Hermione anxiously.

'You're lucky I'm a gentleman,' said Harry. 'Because I could do that to you. Have I told you how amazing you look in that dress?'

'No, but the wine you've drunk just did,' said Hermione, laughing and blushing at the same time. 'You look pretty gorgeous yourself. Those dress robes bring out your eyes really nicely. I've been having Yule Ball flashbacks all day.'

'Why? You weren't with me,' said Harry.

'My eyes were though,' said Hermione. 'And they had a great time.'

Harry pulled her to him and kissed her. Their lips locked firmly but gently, slowly massaging each other in time to the music. Harry could hear distant whooping but was oblivious of it all, his mind only on Hermione's lips and the patterns her hand was tracing through his hair.

'I didn't know you two were together,' said Luna.

'Me either,' said Neville, who looked shocked. 'You kept that one quiet, Harry.'

'Well I haven't been in school, have I,' said Harry. 'This has all happened in the summer.'

'But what about you and Ron's sister?' said Luna, patently awkward in all her words. 'Weren't you going out?'

'That ended at Dumbledore's funeral,' Harry explained.

'That wasn't very nice,' Luna mused. 'You could have chosen lots of nicer times to do it.'

'So is she available then, Ginny?' said Neville, sounding slightly hopeful.

'Yeah, but I wouldn't bother,' said Harry. 'She's more trouble than she's worth.'

' _Intoxico!'_ yelled Hermione suddenly. Harry looked to her and saw her wand out pointing behind him. He turned just in time to see the end of Ginny performing a wild pirouette to the floor. She was holding an empty wine glass in her hand.

'You know,' said Luna distantly. 'I think she was going to hit you with that. I said you should have finished were her nicely.'

'Was that one of the new spells we've been looking at?' Harry asked Hermione. 'What did it do?'

'It was the Light-Head Charm,' explained Hermione. 'And, as it says, it makes you light headed. Only I think Ginny might have been sneaking a bit of wine and was a bit dizzy already.'

'Nice effect though,' said Harry. 'But I think we should leave the dance floor for a bit. People are starting to stare.'

Harry led the way back to their seats and soon after the others followed along with Ron. They sat and chatted, drank more wine and even some Firewhiskey Ron insisted they had. Harry didn't like it; it burned in his throat and he thought there was a realistic chance of him actually breathing fire, though this didn't come to fruition.

It was quite a while later in the evening, when they had danced some more but had sat down again in a state of near exhaustion, that the drunken ramble Harry had been expecting from Ron finally arrived. Their table was now cluttered with a collection of both empty and half-empty wine and shot glasses and several bottles of Butterbeer. There was a lull in the conversation when Harry's fears were realised.

'You know,' Ron was saying to Luna, 'this is a – _hic –_ hard time for me to talk. And it's hard for me to talk at a time like this – _hic_ – he was my brother, you know, and I loved him very much. It isn't _– hic_ – easy for me to say stuff like this. And I didn't say it to him at all. To Charlie!'

Ron raised his glass and gave a phantom toast to the table, spilling half his drink all over the place.

'It's never easy when you lose someone,' said Luna serenely. 'I still feel sad about my mum sometimes. But I know I'll see her again when I die.'

'You know what?' said Ron. 'You're mad! You might even say "Loony"! Ha, Ha!'

'I don't like being called that,' said Luna as though thinking aloud.

'I don't mean it in a bad way,' said Ron loudly. 'I think it's brilliant. You have all these mad ideas and think they are real. It's cute.'

Luna looked more surprised than usual.

'You think I'm cute?' she asked sheepishly.

'Well, in that dress you look more than cute, but your crazy ideas are cute, yeah,' said Ron.

For the first time Harry could remember, Luna actually looked a little flustered and embarrassed. Ron was casting his head randomly around the room. After resting for a few moments on the dance floor he turned back to Luna and said, in a highly drunk and slurring voice,

'Hey Luna, do you wanna dance with me? I feel like a dance.'

If Harry was ashamed at the manner of Ron's drunken invitation then he was positively gob smacked at Luna's response.

'Yes, alright. Just please try not to step on my toes, you do have rather large feet.'

As Luna was yanked to her feet by Ron, Harry caught a glimpse of her bizarre earrings. They were circular and hung close to her ear lobes and seemed to be filled with what looked like liquid metal. Harry chortled to himself; it just wouldn't be Luna without at least one aspect of oddity.

'Isn't that funny?' Hermione whispered in Harry's ear. 'Ron and Luna? You don't think...'

'Nah, not possible,' said Harry.

But on a second look he wasn't quite so sure.

For Ron and Luna were holding each other very close as they slow danced. True, they weren't the most graceful of the half dozen or so couples rotating around the floor, but Harry wouldn't have expected them to be. Despite this there was some unmistakable chemistry between them.

'I think we should add that to our list of things to do,' said Hermione.

'What?'

'Pair those two up,' said Hermione.

'Fancy yourself as a cupid, do you?' asked Harry. 'I know sometimes your wear _wings_ Hermione but I've never seen them on your back.'

'Harry, that's vile,' said Hermione, tutting. 'But don't you think that's a good idea?'

'Oh yeah,' he cried. 'Because we've been so good in the romance department ourselves!'

'We got together in the end,' Hermione pointed out. 'Yes, we took a few wrong turns between us but it all worked out rather nicely.'

'Talking about working out,' said Harry, nodding at the dance floor. 'Ron's tongue must be getting pretty strong.'

'Poor Luna,' said Hermione sadly. 'Ron's technique isn't particularly refined.'

'Maybe he just had a bad teacher,' Harry teased.

'You think so?' said Hermione. 'Get your cloak, Harry, we're leaving.'

'What have I said wrong?' he asked.

'Nothing,' said Hermione, looking shrewd. 'But I just want to get you home, show you just how good a teacher I can be.'

Harry gulped, grabbed his cloak and was Apparating home before he could even form the words 'raging hormones'. In a way he felt quite deviant; after all, it didn't say much for him that he was looking forward to being taken advantage of in his drunken state. But there was a little part of him, the competitive side, that was relishing Hermione's 'lessons'. After all, Harry thought, anything Ron can do...


	12. Teachers and Traitors

Hermione had been gone for over half an hour. She had told Harry to wait in the living room while she prepared her 'classroom' upstairs. Harry wasn't sure what this meant but he was sure that he'd never been more frightened, or excited, in his life. He paced the room, sat down feeling sick, played with his hair, felt afraid of his drunkenness turning into a hangover in the morning, and paced some more. When he thought he could take no more of his own thoughts a note zoomed out of the fire and hit him in the head.

_'Harry, come here,'_ it said simply in Hermione's writing. The paper, Harry noticed, was oddly scented and coloured. It did little to ease his nerves.

Harry climbed the stairs as slowly as his jelly legs would allow him. His heart was pumping hard as he stopped outside the only door with light around it. The rest of the corridor was completely dark. Harry knocked and waited until Hermione called back to him to come in. The room was lit by few candles, which cast flickering and insubstantial light around the walls. At the centre was the king sized bed that took up most of the floor and was now surrounded by several more candles and covered in petals that Harry suspected might have been stolen from the wedding. Hermione was leaning seductively against the end of the huge four-poster and Harry gasped at what she was wearing – a silver silk negligee with thin straps and a low cut. Harry felt his mind overload.

'Harry, come here,' said Hermione quietly. She sounded as unlike herself as Harry could ever imagine she was able. She beckoned him by slowly bending her index finger and Harry, as though commanded by an invisible power, obeyed. He reached Hermione, his eyes darting and flickering over every inch of what he was fully appreciating was a very sexy frame.

'Do you like my new nightie?' she said, the innocence of her words baffling Harry, whose hormones were fast replacing his fear.

'Where did you get it?' he asked.

'Madam Malkins has a special mail-order service just for girls,' said Hermione. 'You haven't answered my question, though.'

'I love it,' said Harry, his eyes still in constant transit.

'I'll get you one, if you like,' Hermione joked.

'Mmm,' said Harry. 'I've never seen you wear anything like this.'

'Oh yeah, like you would have!' Hermione exclaimed. 'I'm sure this would have looked great around the Common Room or at the Burrow.'

'I would have liked it,' said Harry.'

'That's why I bought it,' said Hermione. 'For the right occasion when I'd want you to like it.'

'A-and that's now?'

'Uh-huh,' said Hermione. 'If you want to, of course.'

'I'm yours,' said Harry. 'You're my teacher; I want to be your pet.'

Hermione smiled. 'Then let's go to class.'

Harry allowed Hermione to slip her hands around his neck and untie his cloak before letting it slip to the floor. His dress robes came next, the clasps at his neck slowly unhooked before joining his cloak on the other side of the room leaving him standing in just his underwear. He saw Hermione swallow deeply before running her hands uncertainly over his chest. It was at this time that he realised this was probably the first time she'd ever done anything like this either and was likely as nervous and unsure as he was.

As such they led each other to the rose-scented bed and helped each other down. The kissed softly and gently and for the first time Harry ran his hands over Hermione's curves. She trembled at each little touch and little gasps escaped her lips in between kisses. Harry, for his part, was trying to suppress such noises himself, which wasn't easy as Hermione's dainty fingers were sending shockwaves through him the likes of which he didn't even know existed.

This lasted for ten minutes at least and Harry felt he would have been happy to stay there forever. Hermione, however, seemed buoyed by the start of the whole thing and her earlier bravado returned. She flipped Harry onto his back and straddled him before reaching onto the bedside table. From there she drew a shallow dish, the contents of which Harry couldn't see. Hermione took her wand and placed it on the underside of the dish and although she didn't speak Harry could tell she was performing some spell. After a minute or so she dipped her finger into the bowl, seemed satisfied at whatever she had done and set her wand aside.

'I've never done this before,' she said nervously. 'So if I do it wrong don't laugh, okay?'

'I won't ever laugh at you again,' said Harry, reaching up to cup Hermione's face in the soft candlelight. 'Whatever you are going to do, it will be perfect. Everything about you is.'

Hermione smiled and any lingering doubts seemed to wash away. Her sultry look returned and she dipped her fingers into the bowl once again. She scooped up some of the contents and rubbed it across Harry's chest before laying the bowl down. Harry was surprised that the substance on his skin was warm, but was barely ending this thought when Hermione began to smooth it across his chest. It felt slick and oily and caused Hermione's hands to slip across Harry's skin. A few times one slipped right off and nearly tickled his armpit, but he didn't care. He was in total euphoria under her ministrations.

The massage went on for at least twenty minutes until Harry was oily from neck to toe, front and back. Hermione flipped him back over again and returned to her position straddling him, which was both the best and worst positions he could think of. The strain on his groin was almost unbearable.

'We'll see to that in good time,' said Hermione, her voice still unsure as she spoke in tongues totally new to her. 'But first things first.'

'What's that?'

'It's your turn,' said Hermione.

'But I don't know what to do,' said Harry.

'Then let this be lesson number one.'

With that she slipped the straps from her shoulders and let her flimsy nightgown fall away. She wore that look of wanting approval but this time Harry knew words would never explain how he felt at the sight. Instead, he simply smiled, thinking that this was the best night of his life, and reached over for the dish of massage oil...

* * *

After a night of inexperienced activity, morning light filtered into the room and fell across Harry's eyes. His first thought was that he didn't feel sick, so he had avoided a hangover. Then he felt the bushy expanse tickling his chest and all thoughts of the previous night rushed in. He couldn't be sure, of course, but he felt that the thoughts had produced the broadest smile he had ever worn. He knew, without any doubt, that the next time he needed a Patronus this would be the memory he would use.

He lay there for some time just cradling Hermione's sleeping form in his arms, which he didn't care were already half-numb from the pressure. He was careful to be gentle to avoid waking her but he was so fascinated by the softness of the skin at weird places, like behind her shoulder and down her back, that he just spent the best part of an hour stroking her until she began to stir. Waking, she looked up at him and smiled.

'Morning,' she said tiredly.

'You know,' said Harry. 'I think I want you as a pet. Your skin feels lush to stroke.'

'I don't like I'd like drinking from a bowl, though,' said Hermione hitching herself up. She looked questioningly at Harry for several moments.

'What is it?' he asked eventually.

'Any regrets?' she asked slowly.

'None,' Harry grinned. 'You?'

'Yes, one,' said Hermione.

'What?' asked Harry, his face falling.

'That we didn't do this sooner,' Hermione smiled holding him close. 'That was the most amazing thing ever.'

'And it's free,' said Harry. 'They should charge for that sort of pleasure.'

'Some people do,' Hermione pointed out.

'Where did you learn to do all that...that _stuff_?' Harry asked. 'You really were incredible.'

'Thanks,' Hermione said, grinning broadly. 'Never read _Witch Weekly_ have you? It has more that just the _Most Charming Smile Award_ , you know.'

'Remind me to write them a thank you note,' said Harry kissing the top of Hermione's head.

'Do you think we should get up?' she asked.

'No,' said Harry.

'Me neither. But I think we'd better.'

'Do we have to?' Harry moaned, snuggling in. 'It's so comfy here.'

'I know,' Hermione said, equally dismayed at the prospect of getting up. 'But there are plenty of nights to come, and plenty of _Witch Weekly_ ideas I want to try.'

'I wonder how everyone else fared last night,' said Harry as he got up and started to dress.

'What do you mean?'

'Well, Ron and Luna were getting on rather well and poor Neville, we left him on his own. I hope he isn't mad at us.'

'I doubt he will be,' said Hermione. 'But Harry, I do want to ask you one thing. Please keep what happens here between us. Don't go bragging to anyone. Let's just keep the details to ourselves, okay?'

'Like I'd do that,' said Harry. 'I'm not that insensitive a wart, you know.'

'No, but you are a boy. And I know how boys are when they get together.'

'Boys getting together is one thought I try to avoid,' said Harry smirking.

'You may come across as all heroic and pretty,' said Hermione looking at him pityingly, 'but in the end you think like all boys. How do we girls ever choose between you?'

'Must be destiny,' said Harry. 'I go through two useless girls to find you. You have three lovers before realising who you'd see yourself with in the Mirror of Erised.'

'How do you know I'd see that?' said Hermione. 'My hearts' desire might not have anything to do with that sort of thing. I'm not a floozy, you know.'

'You're my floozy,' said Harry.

'Well, that's different,' said Hermione coming over and kissing him. 'I'll get breakfast going.'

October arrived with several cold days announcing the end of the summer heat wave. The normally draughty rooms of Grimmauld Place became noticeably colder and windows thrown open in search of a non-existent breeze for the past couple of months were shut up once more. The gloom of the dimming sunlight was not lost on Harry who paired the sight of it with the feelings of frustration he was experiencing on the Horcrux front.

He and Hermione spent most of their time in the large drawing room where, along with Ron when he visited, they studied Dumbledore's spells, scanned the Daily Prophet for stories about the Death Eaters and drew up lists of possible locations for the Horcruxes. Hermione spent some time away from the house poring over the archives of the Hogwarts library. Her task focused on finding the identity of the mysterious R.A.B but so far the list of possible targets was quite large. While she worked hard on scaling this down to something realistic, Harry and Ron worked to improve their defensive spell work and invent new spells for Harry to use.

' _Protego!'_ Harry yelled one afternoon as Ron tried to hex him. The force of the protective spell was enough to send Ron toppling backwards over the sofa.

'Perhaps you could use that as an attacking spell,' said Ron getting up and gingerly rubbing his shoulder.

'Sorry,' said Harry. 'I'm just trying to focus really hard. I've just got this feeling that something must happen soon. Voldemort can't be away from me for this long. Ron – can't you just _try_ saying his name?'

'No,' said Ron firmly. 'I'd rather not think about him at all.'

'Well you should,' said Harry. 'It might be best considering that it's quite likely you might come to face-to-face with him. What are you going to do if that happens? Turn around and say "Hello, You-Know-Who?"'

'I don't think I'd be speaking to him at all,' said Ron. 'But it isn't like you're on a first name basis with him either, is it?'

'I don't know,' said Harry. 'I was thinking about calling him Tom, like Dumbledore did. He said it linked him back to being just a normal wizard. And it annoyed him.'

'Oh yeah, because that's a great plan!' Ron exclaimed. 'Annoy the most dangerous sorcerer ever! Good idea, Harry.'

'Lets take a five minute rest, shall we?' said Harry. 'Hermione isn't here to shout at us so I'm sure we can risk it.'

'How's it going between you two anyway?' asked Ron as they both sat down.

'Really good,' said Harry. 'Its weird but perfect all at the same time, you know?'

'No,' said Ron. 'It all sounds a bit disgusting to me.'

Harry had a flashback of Hermione referring to Ron's emotional range being comparable to that of a teaspoon. Even then, it seems, she had Ron worked out.

'I suppose its all about the snogging for you then?' said Harry.

'Eh?'

'Well, all of your female interests seem to spend most of the time locked to your face. Lavender, Hermione a bit, now Luna.'

'What? What about Luna? She isn't a female interest!'

'Oh really?' said Harry. 'What about the wedding?'

'Oh, that,' said Ron going red. 'That was nothing.'

'It didn't look like nothing to me,' said Harry.

'Yeah, well,' said Ron. 'It was the drink. It'd been a long night.'

'Dunno why you're getting so defensive for,' said Harry. 'It's like you're embarrassed.'

'Well, to tell the truth, I am a bit.'

'Why? You spent half of last year snogging Lavender to death, why should this be any different?'

'It isn't, but it is,' said Ron. 'I mean, look who it was with! Loony Lovegood! As if my reputation wasn't bad enough already. The last thing I need is for people to be talking about me and Luna. I won't be able to go out in public.'

For the first time Harry felt like he saw a part of Ron on the surface that he always wished wasn't there down below. It was the part Hermione knew well, the part she often brought up in their rows.

'You know, I think it's a good job she had to go back to school,' said Harry. 'So she could get away from you.'

'What does that mean?' said Ron, affronted.

'It means that there isn't anything major wrong with Luna,' said Harry. 'Okay she comes across a bit odd sometimes, but we know her well enough to know that isn't true. She's nice and she doesn't have any bad intentions to anyone; she isn't two faced; she's loyal and she has time for everyone. People give her a really hard time, but she doesn't deserve it. And she's not bad looking either. She was willing to put up with your drunken antics at the wedding when most girls would have run a mile. Don't you think she deserves a little more consideration from you?'

'Whoa, Harry,' said Ron. 'I didn't mean it like that!'

'Well it certainly sounds that way,' said Harry.

'Since when have you become Luna's personal cheering section anyway?' asked Ron.

'Since I realised the value of true loyalty and friendship,' said Harry. 'Only two members of the DA came to help the night Dumbledore died. Her and Neville. That's it. The rest were too afraid but those two valued being part of it so much they jumped to action straight away. I abandoned them, Ron. Discarded them at the first hurdle. What does that say about me?'

'I think you're being a bit hard on yourself,' said Ron. 'You have your own life. It isn't your responsibility to fix the lives of everyone else.'

'No – you're wrong,' said Harry. 'It is.'

He appreciated it for the first time. He was the leading figure of hope in the magical community. For years it had been Dumbledore, even to him. But now he was the one. He was the one people looked to for the key to defeat Voldemort and free them. People would flock to him. He was the hero now. It was his duty to do good, to offer hope to all people, the way Dumbledore always had.

'There's somewhere I have to go,' said Harry suddenly, standing up. 'Someone I have to see.'

'Do you want me to come?' asked Ron.

'No, I have to see this person alone,' said Harry. 'Are you going to stay here?'

'Yeah, if that's okay,' said Ron. 'How long are you going to be?'

'Not sure. I'll see you later.'

With that he left the room and made his way outside. Moments later he had Apparated and faced the winged boars of Hogwarts once more. He opened the gates and walked inside, following the path towards the school. He waved to Hagrid tending pumpkins in the patch outside his hut and watched as a Thestral soared out of the wilderness in the Forbidden Forest before disappearing once again into its depths. It was unlucky, Harry thought, that he'd picked a time between lessons to plan this trip. As he moved between the huddle of students all faces turned in his direction and whispers passed around the place like a forest fire. Harry nodded to a few people who called his name but pushed through the crowds and vaulted the steps into the school.

He made his way through the corridors until he reached the Headmistress' office. The giant statue was across the staircase and Harry didn't know the password. Turning, he was on the move again with the staff room his target this time. He knocked on arrival and was beckoned to enter. The few teachers inside were surprised to see him; indeed, little Professor Flitwick toppled off the stool he was sitting on when Harry entered.

'Harry Potter!' boomed a jovial voice. 'What a surprise this is? Or should we say an honour?'

'The first will do, Professor Slughorn,' said Harry with an awkward grin. 'I didn't think you'd still be here without Dumbledore.'

'Well,' said Slughorn, who himself looked a little awkward now. 'Minerva did ask very nicely. And she can be quite as persuasive as Dumbledore, you know.'

'Speaking of Professor McGonagall,' said Harry. 'Do you know where she is? I need to speak with her.'

'I think she was in the library,' said Professor Sinistra, who Harry hadn't noticed in the corner. 'I saw her there earlier.'

'Thanks,' said Harry. 'Sorry I can't stop. Bye.'

And he was gone with requests for him to stay and chat ringing down the corridor after him.

True to Professor Sinistra's word Harry found Professor McGonagall in the library, where he'd completely forgotten Hermione was as well. This was an unexpected bonus as he suddenly felt as though he might need an ally in his request. Her surprise at seeing him was as measured as that of the other teachers.

'Potter, what a surprise to see you here,' she said as he approached.

'Everyone keeps saying that,' said Harry. 'It's like they all expect me to be dead by now.'

'Some of us do,' said Professor McGonagall looking at him sternly. 'I still think you'd be infinitely better off here. But I won't waste my breath trying to persuade you. What brings you here? Forgive me, how silly of me. I saw you at the wedding party. Checking she's in one piece are we?'

She glanced down at Hermione with a little smile.

'No,' said Harry. 'But it's good to see she is all the same. I actually came to see you, Professor.'

'I? What exactly can I do for you?'

'Well, I just wanted to run an idea I had by you,' said Harry. 'You probably won't go for it but I thought I'd give it a try anyway.'

'Don't mince words, Potter,' said Professor McGonagall. 'I am a busy woman. I don't have time for riddles.'

'I only have time for one myself, Professor, if you know what I mean.'

'I do, but I don't think you came here to trade bad jokes with me, Potter. So come on, out with it.'

'Well, I was thinking about things earlier and I remembered a couple of years back when I started a sort of secret Defence Against the Dark Arts class. A practical class.'

Hermione gave a little cough at this point and looked up at Harry.

'Oh, right. Well, it was Hermione's idea originally,' Harry corrected himself. 'But anyway, I was thinking that maybe I could restart it. I mean, I spend half my time practising defensive spells at home anyway but I could really use the resources here. And if I was here I might as well teach anyway who wants to learn anything like that, like I did before. It might even add some protection to the school and even prepare people for the real world. I mean, the war could last for ages, couldn't it.'

'Are you talking about teaching a lesson, or building an army?' said Professor McGonagall, who Harry could tell doubted the merits of this plan.

'A bit of both,' he said.

'At least you are honest,' said Professor McGonagall. 'What brought this idea about?'

'A few things,' said Harry. 'But I won't deny the idea of mobilising some kind of force against Voldemort was one of them. No-one else seems to want to go at him and I don't like the idea that he can pick us off one at a time. I know some pretty good stuff and I'm sure it could be a help, at a time when learning about Red Caps and Hinkypunks can't be as important as a few solid hexes.'

'I can't say I approve of the idea of arming students,' said McGonagall. 'It seems irresponsible to me.'

'That's a no then,' said Harry mutinously.

'I hadn't finished, Potter,' said McGonagall. 'I was about to say that although I don't approve I wont deny that the concept has its merits. Not all the staff have returned, you know, and recruiting at a time like this has been a nightmare. Teachers have been doubling lessons to cover. It could be an advantage to be able to lighten the burden.'

'Please, Professor,' said Hermione joining in at last. 'It really could be useful.'

'I get the idea this was planned,' said McGonagall smiling lightly.

'Oh no, this is Harry's brainwave,' said Hermione. 'I didn't know anything about it until he just said. I could help plan lessons and teach. And we could do research, and other things, in between.'

'Come on, Professor,' said Harry passionately. 'Give us a chance. If it fails, or you don't like it, we can end it, no harm done. What do you say?'

'Oh, very well, why not?' said McGonagall. 'But I warn you, teach defence and not attack. We are not Durmstrang, we do not condone the Dark Arts.'

'Thank you, Professor,' said Harry. 'We won't let you down. It'll be a great idea, I promise.'

'Well, well,' said McGonagall. 'I have to get back to my work. I will leave you two now. I will contact you to arrange a formal meeting where we can iron out details. Until then, take care of yourselves.'

Professor McGonagall squeezed Harry's arm, which he found very odd, then left them. Harry watched until she was out of sight, and then turned to Hermione.

'Well? What do you think?'

'I think I smell a rat,' said Hermione. 'Where _did_ this plan come from?'

'I was talking to Ron about Luna and the idea sort of popped into my head,' said Harry.

'You were talking to Ron about Luna?' said Hermione. 'What did he say? Are they going out?'

'Er - what?'

'It's just that I saw Luna earlier and she didn't say a thing,' said Hermione. 'I thought she might have.'

'I won't tell you what Ron said about all that,' said Harry. 'You might not speak to him again.'

'Oh no – he didn't just use her, did he? Poor Luna.'

'I'm not sure,' said Harry. 'I don't think it's that. But you know what Ron's like, there's about as much chance of working him out as there is of Dobby playing Quidditch for Holland. Anyway, I just thought that it would be good to have some people trained up to fight – you know, just in case.'

'Just in case you want to use them, yes?'

'Legillimency to you as well,' said Harry.

'Harry I can't believe you. One minute you don't want me involved, the next you're building a secret army. What next, a dragon air force?'

'You know, that's not a bad idea,' said Harry. 'I'm _joking._ Anyway, I don't know what you're so upset about. It'll give you the perfect chance to play cupid for Ron and Luna.'

'There is such thing as a lost cause,' said Hermione. 'And this might just fit there.'

'I don't know,' said Harry. 'You can be pretty persuasive.'

'I can?'

'Forgotten last night already, have you?' said Harry smirking.

' _Harry!'_ Hermione breathed as she blushed. 'Not here. It's hardly appropriate.'

'It wasn't last night either, but that didn't stop you.'

'Or you, if I remember rightly,' said Hermione with a shy grin that Harry loved. 'I wouldn't have thought Quidditch would have given you such great stamina.'

'Yeah, well I'm full of surprises.'

'You haven't got to tell me that,' said Hermione, her eyes communicating impurity right to Harry's brain. 'But back to the topic at hand, what do you intend to use this new class for?'

'I was serious about saying it might help me,' said Harry. 'The Room of Requirement can provide much better tests than just doing it at home. It can be used for anything; practising, training simulations, tons of stuff. It'll be great.'

'I still say you've got something else up your sleeve but I'll just have to wait and see what that is,' said Hermione. It was a mark of her new found reliance on Harry's judgement that she went with this new whim of his. 'I was about to come home when you arrived. Shall we go?'

Harry agreed and they left the library discussing all the things they could do with this new class. The old curriculum would be completely ignored, of course, but there were so many possibilities that it was likely to fill the fruitless time between waiting for a sniff of something tangible on other fronts.

Outside the air smelled of smoke and Harry chuckled as he imagined what could have been burned in the cauldrons of the classrooms nearby. He felt a pang of sadness at missing out on such things but as he heard the chiding voice of one of the teachers the regret eased a little. A disturbing sight at the school gates erased all such futile thoughts.

Harry hardly dared to believe it. It couldn't be what he thought. There was a figure sat in the square just outside the gates, on the edge of one of the circular flowerbeds to one side. Harry refused to believe who it was.

For the person sitting there, waiting for him, was Draco Malfoy.


	13. Many Meetings

'You!' cried Harry starting forward.

'I see they haven't cut out your eyes yet then,' said Malfoy. Harry noticed his voice lacked its usual bravado, but this didn't stop him lunging for the traitor, all thoughts of wands forgotten.

'Harry, no!' yelled Hermione. She took a firm grip of his cloak, which was enough to yank him back.

'Hermione, what are you doing?' Harry yelled into her face. 'This piece of filth killed Dumbledore!'

'No he didn't, and you know it,' said Hermione. 'Snape killed Dumbledore, not Malfoy.'

'He did enough,' said Harry. 'He let those Death Eaters into Hogwarts, he nearly killed Ron twice. He's just as bad. He's rubbish because he couldn't do it properly but I'm still going to kill him for trying.'

'Harry, please,' said Hermione passionately.

'Hermione get out of the way,' said Harry reaching into his cloak.

'Put it down, Harry,' said Hermione swatting Harry's arm as it made for his wand.

'You should listen to her, Potter,' said Malfoy, his voice oddly strained without its usual coolness. 'Wouldn't want to have a girly little catfight, would you?'

'And you can shut up too!' said Hermione rounding on Malfoy. 'The only reason I'm trying to stop Harry is for _his_ sake, not yours. He isn't a killer – he isn't your father.'

'Don't you mention my father,' said Malfoy rising.

'Or what?' said Hermione coolly. Her own wand was raised and pointing right and Malfoy's chest, at the point where his heart would be if he had one, thought Harry. Malfoy eyed Hermione's wand with a degree of caution, his mind fighting a fierce battle about what to do next. Harry thought he saw the instinct for a fight but after taking a long look at Hermione's wand he appeared to think better of it and sat back down.

'You've got one hell of a cheek to turn up here,' said Harry angrily. 'I think it's time you explained yourself.'

'What I do is none of your business,' said Malfoy.

'You want to be a Death Eater, you know and are related to Death Eaters and you're an evil piece of scum. That makes you my business. I want to know what you are doing here.'

'And if I don't want to tell you?'

'Then I'll force it from you,' said Harry, slightly perturbed by the hint of a quaver in Malfoy's voice.

'Oh yeah, how?' said Malfoy.

'Well for a start I know where that foul Snape kept his Veritaserum,' said Harry. 'How hard do you think it would be for me and Hermione to subdue you and drag you up there?'

'Still need the Muggle to do all the work for you, don't you?' said Malfoy with a sneer.

'Right, that's it!' said Harry striding forward.

'No!' said Hermione, stepping in front of Harry. 'And you can put that down as well.' She had turned back to Malfoy who had managed to get his wand out now.

'Don't try and tell me what to do, Mudb-'

' _Expelliarmus!'_

Harry had taken about as much of Malfoy as he could stand for one day. The force of the spell had thrown him off the rock he was sat upon and he was now flat on his back on the path leading to Hogsmeade. Harry shook off Hermione's protests and raced over to Malfoy, his wand pointing at his prostrate body and he wondered which curse would hurt the most. Then Malfoy spoke and for the first time ever Harry thought he sounded scared of him.

'P-please, Potter, don't' Malfoy begged. 'Don't k-kill me.'

'How dare you beg for mercy!' Harry cried. 'Did Dumbledore get mercy? Did Sirius? Why should you, you dirty filth!'

'I made a mistake, I didn't know what I was doing, I was scared,' stammered Malfoy desperately. 'I'm s-sorry. Please – please, Harry.'

This last word, more than anything, stunned Harry. Malfoy had never used his first name before, and never spoken in this way. There was something in it which made Harry lower his wand and step back. Hermione moved forwards and took over.

'Don't try and get up,' she said. 'Harry's right. There had better be a good reason for you being here. Now talk.'

'I-I had nowhere else to go,' said Malfoy. 'When I agreed to help _him_ I thought it would be easy, just like being in school. But its not. Its not at all. If you fail at something you don't get detention or a Howler; your life is at risk. I could handle that but I didn't think my mother would be drawn into it. I didn't want her to be...'

His voice tailed off and Harry watched him intently, trying to work out if this was all an elaborate game.

'What happened to her?' asked Hermione.

'It started with a few threats,' said Malfoy. 'They said my father had failed, I had failed and that my mother would probably do the same. That she was too soft. They found out that she made Snape do the Unbreakable Vow.'

'The Unbreakable Vow?' said Hermione. 'Between your mother and Snape? For you? Why?'

'She didn't want me to be a killer,' said Malfoy, sitting up. 'She made Snape promise to do it if I didn't, or couldn't.'

'Then he didn't have a choice,' Hermione mused.

'You don't get it, do you?' said Malfoy. 'Snape is a traitor. To both sides. He's only out for himself. Some of my father's friends think he's after the Dark Lord's throne. Oh he had a choice alright, and he took his chance when it came. He's just as bad as the Dark Lord himself.'

'That still doesn't explain what you are doing here,' said Harry.

'I thought my mother would be safe,' Malfoy continued. 'But then my aunt Bella told the Dark Lord about the Vow, and he went after my mother. I took her away and I'm trying to find somewhere she can be safe. He's nearly caught us a couple of times. Then I remembered what Dumbledore had said – on that night – and I thought-'

'Well you thought wrong!' yelled Harry. 'You had your chance then! Instead you let him die. You've got no chance.'

'That isn't for you to decide,' said Malfoy. 'That's for the Order-'

'I'm in the Order!' said Harry. 'And there is no way I'm being part of any protection for you.'

'I'm not asking for myself,' said Malfoy. 'My mother is innocent in all this.'

'Ha!' said Harry. 'Innocent? Her husband is a killer, her son was going to be one, I'm not seeing the innocent thing, sorry.'

'She hasn't done anything,' said Malfoy.'

'Not doing anything about you and jailbird daddy is just as bad as being part of it herself,' spat Harry. 'If you've got on the wrong side of Voldemort and you're an enemy of the Order and the Ministry then you're really in trouble. You're on borrowed time. I for one hope that time expires very soon.'

'Harry, you can't just deal out death and judgement,' said Hermione. 'No-one can. Aren't we trying to save everyone who Voldemort want to destroy? Doesn't that put Malfoy and his mum under our protection? Everyone deserves a second chance, Harry.'

'I can't believe you're saying this,' said Harry. 'After all the things he's done, after all the nasty things he's said to you. You still want to help him.'

'Yes,' said Hermione simply.

'Well I wont,' said Harry flatly.

'Yes you will,' said Hermione. 'Because you're a good person and it's what Dumbledore would have wanted you to do. And it's what I want you to do.'

Harry swore and stormed a few yards away. What he hated the most was that Hermione was right, as always. He had no choice but to give Malfoy a chance, or risk going down the same road as Voldemort. But wasn't Dumbledore always too trusting? It cost him his life and as much as Harry admired him he didn't want to make his mistakes. The debate, he knew, was pointless. If Hermione asked him to jump off Hogsmeade Bridge naked he would, he couldn't deny her this either.

'Get up, on your feet,' Harry commanded as he strode to Malfoy. 'Where is your mother now?'

'We're hiding in a Muggle village just past Hogsmeade,' said Malfoy.

'Then go and get her and bring her here,' said Harry. He stepped in close to Malfoy again. 'But let us be rightly clear on this, I'm helping you against my better judgement, against every fibre of instinct in my body. You have just one chance between you. If either you or your mother steps out of line, shows any indication of being a Voldemort spy or of having any sort of link to him, I'll kill you both. I hope you understand because I tell you this just once. I have every reason in the world to do it so don't push me.'

Malfoy nodded and moved away before Apparating. A few minutes of awkward silence passed before he re-materialised with his mother at his side. In spite of himself Harry felt a shard of resistance melt away at the sight of her. When he'd last seen her she had been haughty, proud and arrogant. Now she look tired, weary and as scared as Malfoy had suggested they were. He couldn't help doubt it though; they were just too bad to be wholly believed. It would take a lot, Harry thought, to convince him totally but for now he would give them the benefit of the doubt. He turned and marched them back up to the school where he would call on the wisdom of Headmistress McGonagall to decide on the next step.

* * *

Later that evening Harry and Hermione were sat in the living room at Grimmauld Place trying to unwind after what had been quite a trying day. Hermione had her nose buried in the Daily Prophet, tutting and snorting and occasionally reading out snippets about Harry and the war effort. These were largely embellished propaganda and Harry felt he may have found them amusing had his head not been filled with other thoughts.

For Harry was brooding. He was obsessing over the meeting with Draco Malfoy outside Hogwarts and the story he had told. There was enough truth in it to be believed; Harry was familiar enough with Voldemort's ways to know he held little value for anyone, even his closest allies. He was equally able to believe that Bellatrix Lestrange would give her sister over to Voldemort if she thought it would elevate her status with him.

He mulled over how long it would take Voldemort and his cohorts to realise the Malfoy's were now under the protection of the Order. There was also Lucius Malfoy to think of; how would he react to his son changing sides? Would them being under threat by Voldemort be enough to sway Lucius to not give them away, or would he follow Bellatix's example. Either way they were hidden now; McGonagall had taken them to her office and banished Harry away. As he sat on the old chair at Grimmauld Place he wondered where they were now and what sort or protections would keep them out of Voldemort's clutches.

'Shows how much they know, doesn't it?' said Hermione suddenly.

'What?' asked Harry, confused.

'Haven't you been listening to me?' asked Hermione.

'Were you talking?' said Harry. 'Sorry I was miles away.'

'That much is obvious,' said Hermione smiling. 'Thinking about Malfoy I bet.'

'This whole thing is really vexing,' said Harry.

'Vexing?' laughed Hermione. 'I'm sorry, I must have missed the part where we went back to the nineteenth century!'

'Shut up,' said Harry throwing a cushion at her.

'No wonder you never played Chaser,' said Hermione as the cushion sailed a few metres past her head. She got up and walked over to Harry, sitting herself down in his lap before starting to rub his temples.

'Mmm,' Harry purred. 'Please adjust my eyebrows.'

'You're really tense, Harry,' said Hermione. 'You need to relax. There isn't any point dwelling on this. It's out of your hands now.'

'Oh really?' said Harry. 'Anything this directly to do with Voldemort involves me. I can't believe I had to help Malfoy, of all people.'

'I thought what you did was very good,' said Hermione. 'Even if you don't forgive him you were able to put that aside. You always did have moral fibre.'

'Yeah,' snorted Harry. 'Look where that got me last time. Last place and looking like an idiot.'

'Aww it was just your saving-people-thing,' teased Hermione. 'It's cute.'

'Cute? That's one word for it,' said Harry. 'Stupid is one I prefer. Not that I'm the only one who has that complex.'

'Really? Who else has one?'

'You do.'

'I do not have a saving-people-thing,' Hermione protested.

'Okay, well maybe not a saving-people-thing,' said Harry. 'But you do have a _saving-me-thing._ Anyone threatens me and you whip your wand out faster than Jesse James. You had your wand on Malfoy so fast today I thought I had blacked out and missed you doing it.'

'Ah well,' said Hermione. 'Like I said before, someone has to look after you. Lets face it you're pretty useless on your own.'

'Hey!' said Harry tickling Hermione. 'I'll have you know I'm very capable.'

Hermione didn't answer but instead just snuggled in. They sat like that for several minutes before Hermione finally spoke again.

'I thought we could go out tomorrow,' said Hermione. 'Get away from it all for an afternoon.'

'Sounds good,' said Harry. 'Where do you want to go?'

'Lunch with my parents.'

Harry jerked his head back to look at her. 'What?'

'Is that a problem?' asked Hermione, sitting up.

'Er, no, I don't suppose,' said Harry awkwardly. 'But do you think that's a good idea?'

'Why wouldn't it be? They haven't seen me for a while and they are worried about me, what with things being as they are. And I want them to meet you. Its only fair they see whom I'm – how did Ron put it? – _shacked up_ with. Don't you want to?'

'What? No, it isn't that,' said Harry. 'I just won't know what to say. I'm no good with things like that. I'll make an idiot of myself.'

'Of course you won't,' said Hermione brightly. 'Just be yourself and they'll see how nice you are and everything will be fine. If we're to be as serious as we are then at some stage you have to meet my parents. They want to know who you are.'

'How do they know anything about me?' said Harry.

'Well I did talk to my parents when I went home from school, you know. They know who you are and what you've done since we've known each other. And I write to them every week so they know what's going on between us.'

'You've said what we're doing?' said Harry, horrified.

'Oh yeah,' cried Hermione sardonically. 'I'm going to tell my mum and dad that!' No, I mean I just told them I have a serious boyfriend, that's all. Is there anything wrong with that?'

'No, of course not,' said Harry. 'Sorry, I don't mean to freak out. It's just a bit of a surprise that's all.'

'If you want me to cancel it, I will,' said Hermione.

'No, I don't want that,' said Harry. 'I'd like to meet them. Just don't dump me if I make a fool of myself.'

'I don't want you to change the habit of a lifetime for my parents, Harry,' said Hermione smirking.

'I'm going to have you in a minute!' said Harry.

'Only if you can catch me,' said Hermione with a wink before she jumped up and ran from the room, Harry hot on her tail...

The Muggle High Street was brimming with afternoon shoppers. Though nowhere near as packed as a London street this was still a veritable throng of people. Harry and Hermione weaved their way through the crowd on the wave of people moving in their direction. Occasionally Hermione would yank Harry's arm to the window display of a clothes shop, or drag him to watch a street entertainer or stop suddenly to buy a Big Issue (anything to help the homeless). It was only after she had caught him ogling the lacy lingerie in the window of one shop that Hermione stuck to her course and tried to keep Harry's mind on other things.

'Now remember, my parents are dentists,' said Hermione.

'Meaning what?' said Harry. 'I should try and order Colgate for lunch?'

'No, silly,' laughed Hermione. 'Just don't mind them if they start going on about teeth. They both love what they do. They can bore you to tears about it.'

'Don't worry I've had to listen to lots of rubbish over the years, I'm good at blocking it out.'

'Like what?' said Hermione.

'Your lectures, Ron's jokes, Divination,' said Harry. 'I'll be a good audience, don't worry.'

'I only lectured you for your own good,' said Hermione sniffily.

'That'd be you saving-me-thing again, yes?'

'Exactly.'

They stopped outside a little grill restaurant that was small enough to be a café but was too well furnished to be one. Hermione led the way across the place to a table at the back where he parents were already sitting. They both rose as they reached the table, embracing Hermione in turn before facing Harry.

'Mum, dad, this is Harry,' said Hermione. 'Harry, this is mum and dad.'

'Hi,' said Harry.

'Nice to meet you, Harry,' said Hermione's father shaking Harry's hand. 'A firm grip. I like that.'

'Hello, Harry,' said Hermione's mother. 'We've heard so much about you.'

'All good I hope,' said Harry awkwardly.

'Oh yes,' beamed Mrs Granger. 'Hermione has never said a bad word about you.'

'You haven't been around her much then,' said Harry smiling. Both Hermione's parents chuckled.

A waitress came over. Harry ordered an orange juice, feeling it best not to order anything that might rot his teeth. Hermione asked for a mineral water and began chatting animatedly to her parents about what was going on as Harry picked up a menu. It was when she mentioned Horcruxes that Harry felt he had to interrupt.

'Er, Hermione,' he said. 'I don't think this is the place to talk about this sort of thing.'

'Harry, I don't think we're in any danger here,' said Hermione. 'There isn't anyone about.'

'Voldemort could have spies anywhere,' said Harry. 'He probably knows hiding amongst Muggles is the best way to evade him. And he is as bad to them as wizards. I just think that you might want to be a bit careful with what you say.'

'But surely, Harry, you don't think this evil wizard could be here?' said Mr Granger. Harry thought he could detect a trace of incredulity in his voice, as though he didn't quite appreciate who he was talking about.

'I don't think he is here,' said Harry. 'But I do know a few things, one of which is that he desperately wants to kill me and anyone else who opposes him. Secondly, he can appear here from hundreds of miles away in a split second. There are no wizards around to confront him but me and Hermione. There are hundreds of defenceless people around that he would have no problem with killing in order to get to me. With that in mind I think it best to keep to subjects a little less dangerous.'

'Oh my,' said Mrs Granger, as though suddenly realising how much danger Hermione was really in. 'And what is being done to stop him.'

'I'm working on a strategy that has already had some success,' said Harry. 'Others are as well. I won't say anything more. I just think that in this environment we'd do well to talk about less hot topics. You never know who's listening.'

'Harry, you're frightening my parents!' hissed Hermione.

'I'm sorry,' said Harry quickly. 'I didn't mean to.'

'No need to apologise,' said Mr Granger. 'I'd rather know the truth. I take it that Hermione is safe with you?'

'As safe as anywhere,' said Harry. 'This is an incredibly powerful enemy. Safe is a relative thing but I won't let anything happen to her.'

'That's good to know,' said Mr Granger. 'Not that we could do anything about it. Quite stubborn is our Hermione. She has always done her own thing. Just tell me you won't take any unnecessary risks.'

'Not with her, I won't,' said Harry.

'Enough of all this morbid talk,' said Hermione in a vain attempt to restore normality. 'Shall we order?'

The afternoon was strained after that. The conversation topics ranged from Hermione telling her parents about Bill and Fleur's wedding to them telling her the latest stories from their dental practice. It all had something of a hollow feel to it, though, and Harry stayed as silent as he could as he blamed it on himself. He answered the questions posed to him politely and tried to take an interest in the tales of dental work the Grangers told. All in all, though, Harry was glad when it was all over and they parted.

Hermione was in a foul mood as they walked towards the park where they would Apparate home. She strode on in mutinous silence with her arms crossed and a stern expression on her face as Harry hurried to keep up. She Apparated without a word and was through the door of Grimmauld Place before Harry had even crossed the little square outside. Once they were both in the kitchen Harry confronted her.

'What is it?' he asked.

'What do you think?' she asked. 'You just made my parents think I'm on the verge of being killed, do you want a gold star for that?'

'Well its true.'

'Yes, maybe, but some things are better left unsaid,' said Hermione angrily. 'You have no tact, do you?'

'You were the one talking about it,' said Harry. 'What impression did you hope to give? Tried to make your parents believe that it wasn't as bad as it is.'

'Is that so wrong?' said Hermione. 'Is it wrong that they don't worry about me? That they can sleep easy without knowing all of this?'

'Don't you think they'd want to know? That they ought to know, maybe. You're just lying to them by not telling them what's going on.'

'You think it's that easy, do you?' said Hermione who was angrier than Harry had ever seen her. 'You don't know, you just don't get it. You don't know what its like to have parents putting pressure on you, to have them breathing down your neck, to have them going on at you all the time. You just don't know what its like to have parents.'

'No,' said Harry. 'No I suppose I don't, do I?'

Hermione froze looking totally horrified as she realised what she'd said. 'Oh, Harry – Harry I'm so sorry. I didn't think, I didn't mean-'

'No you didn't think,' said Harry. 'Unfortunately I'll never get a chance to know what pressure you're under. But you seem to perfectly comprehend how _easy_ it is for _me,_ how I have so much support for the burden I have to carry. But don't let that bother you, Hermione, you just focus on not having your parents tutting at you for getting less than 100% on a test. Heaven forbid! In the meantime I have a life or two to save, and maybe take a few on the way.'

With that he stormed out, leaving Hermione on the verge of tears and feeling that he had never been hurt more in his whole life.


	14. The Tapestry Unravelled

Harry sat upstairs alone for over an hour dwelling on the reminder Hermione's thoughtless words had brought to his mind. The realisation that the task before him belonged to he alone had been pushed back, covered by the false hope being intimate with Hermione had generated. He had almost forgotten the words of the prophecy, almost started to believe that he could defy destiny and weave others into aiding him in the final confrontation with Voldemort. Somehow with Hermione's stark reminder that he had no parents to shoulder the burden, the awful truth was once again at the forefront of his thoughts.

Not that he was really that angry with Hermione, he just wanted to make a point with her. The tactic, he knew, could backfire badly but he was assured enough of the strength of his relationship with Hermione to risk upsetting her a little to make her understand certain things. He hadn't expected her to use his orphan status as a reason for him not understanding _her_ , but he had to try and make her see the value of prudence and thought, even when the emotion of certain situations could carry you away. This was the reason, he thought, that she had told her parents about their dealings with the Horcruxes, for he was certain she wouldn't have been so open about it with anyone else, especially another from the magical community. Harry feared what he considered Hermione's 'Muggle naivety;' that she somehow thought her parents were safe and free from it all. Harry, who felt he knew Voldemort's mind much better than Hermione, thought they were in more danger than most.

So he sat and stewed. This period lasted much longer than he expected; Hermione usually wasn't the type to let him be alone with his thoughts, especially if they painted her in a negative light. There was, of course, the possibility that she felt she had crossed the line this time and Harry tried not to think of her sitting alone in the kitchen crying with the guilt of it all. The thought made Harry feel about as bad as his imaginary Hermione was. But he was determined not to cave in and go to her; he needed her badly, but she had to keep her promise to do as he said, the first rule of which was to avoid unnecessary risks. So far she wasn't keeping her part of the bargain.

It was just as a resistance to his determination was beginning to form that Harry heard the handle to the living room door creak down. Hermione walked in slowly, sheepishly, her face pale but her eyes sorrowful rather than red and puffy. If she had been crying, Harry thought, it had passed a long while ago. She looked up at him uncertainly; she looked so sorry for herself, so pitiful with regret that Harry lost all his will to be steely with her.

'Don't say it,' he said as Hermione made to speak. 'I know you're sorry, I know you didn't mean it, and I forgave you the moment you said it.'

A hint of a smile crossed Hermione's face as part of her sorrowful veil lifted. She made her way across the room to Harry and sat at the foot of his chair, hugging his hand and resting against his legs. For a few moments they simply sat like that and said nothing.

'Oh, Harry I just have to say it,' said Hermione suddenly, sounding rather desperate. 'I'll just die of shame if I don't apologise. I was so thoughtless, so stupid. I was caught up in my own things and I just blurted it out. I didn't mean it.'

'I already said I know you didn't,' said Harry, smirking at the frantic look in Hermione's eyes.

'It was just about the most horrid thing I could have said,' Hermione cried. She stood up and began pacing about. 'I don't know what got into me. I can't believe I even mentioned anything about what we're doing to my parents. It's like I've learned nothing important in all these years. There could have been spies somewhere, like when we had that first DA meeting in the Hogs Head, remember? Or someone could have intercepted my letter and Polyjuiced mum and dad. Oh, dear...'

Hermione flopped down into the chair opposite Harry looking horrified and exhausted. Secretly Harry agreed with most of what she'd said but he had learned enough about pacifying people to know that know wasn't the moment to voice his agreement.

'Hermione you need to calm down,' said Harry. 'I'm sure your parents weren't Polyjuiced. And if there were spies I stopped you before you said anything to important. Don't worry about it.'

'Don't worry about it!' Hermione thundered, springing back to her feet. 'How can I not worry about it? I nearly gave away our plan! I put our lives, my parents' lives, and everyone's life in danger! Then I said something really horrible to you, and you probably secretly hate me for it, and if I lost you over that I'd go nuts! What isn't there to worry about?'

'Well losing me for a start,' said Harry. 'I need you more than anyone or anything and it'd take a little more than you venting your anger at me once to change that. You'll have to work a bit harder than that to get rid of me, girl.'

'Why aren't you mad at me?' asked Hermione. 'I expected you to be furious with me.'

'And maybe before I might have been. I just don't seem able to feel anything bad towards you for very long. You've softened me a bit.'

Hermione looked as though she had melted; her shoulders seem to collapse down and she smiled.

'Oh Harry...'

'Don't go thinking you're in control of me though,' said Harry. 'I'm my own man and I still make the decisions around here.'

'Ha! If you say so!' laughed Hermione.

'Okay, maybe you control me a bit,' said Harry. 'But don't forget that when it comes to fighting Voldemort you don't do anything without my agreement. That includes talking about it, even to people we trust. I hope you won't make that mistake again.'

'No,' said Hermione nodding fervently. 'As far as that goes I will do as you say. But lets not joke around; you're under the thumb in all other areas!'

'Excuse me, I am not!' Harry protested. 'You may be able to enchant other boys under your spell but I have my own mind.'

'Really?' said Hermione looking sultrily at him. 'I bet I can bend you to my will. I just have to offer the right inducements.'

Harry felt himself involuntarily shiver at the look Hermione pierced him with. Despite all his protestations he knew that Hermione did have a certain power over him that was difficult to resist. It made throwing of the Imperious Curse look like child's play.

'Hey, no flirting,' said Harry. 'I'm supposed to be giving you a sermon here.'

'I give you a simple choice,' said Hermione stepping forward to whisper in Harry's ear. 'Cleanse me of my sins or come with me and we'll commit a few more.'

And with a wink she slinked out of the door. Harry sighed to himself and chided himself for being so weak. He thought how Ron would laugh at him for being, as Hermione had termed it, "under the thumb". Harry made his way to the door thinking to himself that somewhere Sirius and his father would be having a nice little chuckle at how, when it came to being addicted to their women, Harry really was his father's son.

* * *

For the next few days Harry enjoyed a period of relative peacefulness. The mid-October mildness was rapidly giving way to chillier winds and the leaves were beginning to fall on the handful of trees in the crude park just outside Grimmauld Place. The house was feeling increasingly draughty and the fires were being lit considerably earlier than they had been. It was during this time that Harry received a piece of news he was looking for.

It was on a Wednesday afternoon. He and Hermione were at Hogwarts discussing with Headmistress McGonagall their plans for teaching Defence Against the Dark Arts. Harry was surprised to learn that the plan had been met with universal approval by the students when McGonagall had suggested the idea to them. Harry confessed his astonishment to Hermione as they left the office.

'I don't know why you didn't see this coming,' said Hermione. 'It doesn't surprise me at all.'

'Why not?' asked Harry. 'Lessons have never been popular so what would be different this time?'

'Oh come, Harry,' said Hermione. 'You are dense sometimes. It's just like when you were Quidditch Captain; the lesson, like the team, isn't popular – you are. If you were popular last year then I don't know what you could call this. Why do you think I burn the Daily Prophet after I read it? If you got hold of it your head would grow so big I doubt you could get it through the door. It doesn't hurt that you've started being a bit of a rebel, either, standing up to the Ministry and things. Plus there was the fight last year. It gives you a rugged sort of edge. It makes you not just more fanciable but something of a god in that area. Your picture is in every issue of _Witch Weekly_ , they even have a special column all about you. I mean, even I've fallen for you and nobody could have predicted that!'

'Cheek,' said Harry, flushing at this piece of news. 'I think I could have predicted it if I'd stopped being so blind and read between the lines. They have pictures of me?'

'Yes,' said Hermione simply. 'I don't know who takes them but they are quite good. There was one topless one, though how they got it is a mystery. It must have broken a few hearts at Hogwarts to see you didn't have that tattoo of a Horntail on your chest.'

'Yeah, well,' said Harry. 'I didn't want to upset Ginny the time but I much prefer a Hippogriff to a Horntail any day.'

'Glad to hear it,' said Hermione with a wink.

They were just turning out of the Charms corridor and making for a staircase when Harry heard someone hiss behind him. Turning curiously he looked towards the source of the sound. There, shrouded by the shadows of an alcove, was the unmistakable blond sheen of Malfoy.

'Psst! Potter. Over here!' Malfoy hissed.

'Yes I can see you,' said Harry. 'You're sounding more like Voldemort's pet every day. You'll be eating rats any day now.'

'Very funny, Potter,' said Malfoy.

'Is there something particular you wanted?' asked Harry. 'Or have you just popped your head up to ruin my day?'

'I did have a message for you,' said Malfoy, 'but perhaps I shouldn't give it to you.'

'Perhaps you need to have a rethink of your loyalties,' said Harry darkly. 'I know the way to Little Hangleton quite well. You know who has a house there I suppose?'

Harry grinned in satisfaction as he saw Malfoy try to mask a shudder.

'Like you'd want to go there any more than I would,' said Malfoy eventually. 'Anyway, the message I've got comes from the portrait of Dumbledore.'

'Really?' said Harry fighting a battle against his natural urge to disbelieve every word that came from Malfoy's mouth. 'We were just up in the Head's office, why didn't he give it to me then?'

'Perhaps because he was in the Charms classroom with me. He has a portrait in most rooms of the castle. Don't tell me you don't know that portraits can move between frames?'

'Yes of course he does,' snapped Hermione as Malfoy started to snigger.

'What's it like to have a girl fight all your battles for you?' asked Malfoy.

'What's it like being the world's biggest twit?' asked Hermione scathingly.

'Just give me the message,' said Harry.

'As you like,' said Malfoy. 'It was so much more fun when you weren't whipped, Potter.'

'Message,' Harry insisted.

'Dumbledore says to expect a visit later. He says you'll learn things in your bedroom, like you did before. He said you'll know what that means. Sounds a bit disgusting to me but then you are friends with the Weasley's so I expect you are used to being surrounded by filth.'

'Well I did share a school with you and the rest of the Slytherin scum for six years so I must be well used to it by now.'

'Come on, Harry,' said Hermione tugging the sleeve of Harry's robe. It might have had something to do with him reaching for his wand but it did manage to get him moving again. 'Do you know what that message means?'

'The only thing I can think of,' said Harry, 'is that portrait of Phineas Nigellus at Grimmauld Place. He has one at Hogwarts and Dumbledore used it to send messages to Sirius and me when Umbridge was at Hogwarts. He must be planning to use it himself.'

'Can a portrait visit another portrait's frame somewhere else?' asked Hermione.

'I don't know,' said Harry. 'I know they can leave their own frames for others next to them. The fat lady always did, and that mad knight, Sir Cadogan, led me around once. I don't know if they can move between frames in different places but this is Dumbledore and if there are rules for portraits I'm sure he knows how to get around them.'

For the rest of the day Harry waited at Grimmauld Place. He and Hermione sat in the bedroom staring at the blank canvas on the wall and listening to the distant sounds echoing from the twin frame at Hogwarts. Harry thought that perhaps their time could have been spent a little more constructively but he was so curious as to what information he was going to receive that he doubted whether he could seriously concentrate on anything anyway.

At around seven o'clock Harry heard a little cough and looked up at the portrait. He had been playing with a Snitch that Hermione had conjured to amuse him during the wait. He was letting the Snitch fly a little from his hand before snatching it back again. He realised that while his father had used the little game to show off his reflexes it was also quite fun as he grew more daring each time by letting the Snitch a little further each time. Hermione didn't seem as impressed as Wormtail had been by Harry's dad; the appreciative whoops of the would-be traitor had been replaced by tuts and snorts as Hermione went on darning some multicoloured bobble-hats.

'It's about time,' Harry said as Phineas Nigellus pretended to snooze against the edge of the picture frame.

'I see you haven't lost any of your charm,' said Phineas. 'You'd think you'd be more appreciative of all this effort I've gone to.'

'Effort?' scoffed Harry. 'You're a portrait and lazy by those standards. Like you do anything else.'

'I shall never regret leaving my own youth,' said Phineas. 'Perhaps I was never quite as arrogant as you but I must have had similar traits. Let us hope that at some stage you grow out of them.'

'Yeah whatever,' said Harry. 'I thought I was supposed to be getting a message.'

'Impatience is not a virtue,' said Phineas. 'Oh very well – Dumbledore! Let's get this over with. I have a dinner date with Miranda the Manicured at eight.'

At the command Dumbledore stepped from the side frame and into the centre of the portrait.

'Thank you, Phineas,' said Dumbledore. 'You may go now, but do not stray too far. I shall need to be called back when I am finished here.'

'Very well,' said Phineas lazily and disappeared from where Dumbledore had arrived.

'Ah, Harry, good to see you looking well,' said Dumbledore. 'And Miss Granger too. Excellent.'

'Evening, sir,' said Harry. 'How's life as a painting going?'

'Picture perfect, Harry,' said Dumbledore. 'I highly recommend it. Why only yesterday I played a few frames of pool with the Baskerville Hounds on the second floor. They weren't happy to lose to me, I can tell you.'

'I can bet,' said Harry. 'So, what is this all about, Sir?'

'As always I can see you are not to be distracted, Harry,' said Dumbledore. 'Very well. I have been keeping up with your progress in the struggle against the dark side, Harry.'

'Really? How?'

'I was a highly clever wizard, you know, and I have my ways. Anyway, I have noticed that you have struggled recently and things seemed to have stalled. I have come to the conclusion that I left you far too much to do at such a young age. My age, Harry, is what gave me such cleverness in life. I had lived so much, seen and learned so much, whereas you have not.

'After a series on discussions with various parties I have stumbled upon a piece of information that could be of great use to you.'

'What is it?' asked Harry eagerly.

'This is the problem,' said Dumbledore. 'The information comes from Phineas who, as you know, is not the most helpful of souls. He told me, after a few glasses of brandy one night, as we discussed the state of things that you might find some direction in a certain tree at your residence.'

'That doesn't make sense,' said Harry.

'At first I agreed,' Dumbledore continued. 'But Phineas always was, and remains, aloof and ambiguous. Unfortunately my knowledge of Grimmauld Place is limited. However I thought you might be able to make more sense of it.'

'But there aren't any trees here,' said Harry. 'I don't understand. Didn't you get anything else from him?'

'No, I'm afraid not. The only reason I tell you is that it was a rare honourable moment from Phineas. They are as rare, and reliable, as the predictions of Sybil Trelawney. I thought that perhaps you could investigate the permutations of his cryptic message further.'

'Professor,' said Hermione. 'What were you and Phineas discussing at the time, precisely? It might give us a clue to start from.'

'I believe we were discussing my death and the false Horcrux which weakened me,' said Dumbledore. 'I recall Phineas debating my reasons for allowing myself to be left defenceless.'

'Dumbledore!' came a call from nowhere. It was Phineas. 'Will you hurry this along? I have to get ready for my date!'

'Alas our time is at an end,' said Dumbledore smiling. 'I am sorry I cannot be of more use to you, but such is the _tapestry_ of things. Good luck.'

And with that he was gone.

'Well that was useless,' said Harry. 'All that waiting and for what?'

'Dumbledore wouldn't have told us unless he thought it was worth doing so,' said Hermione. 'There must be some meaning in it. We just have to figure it out.'

'That's your field of expertise,' said Harry. 'Come on, let's go downstairs. It's freezing up here now.'

Harry led the way to the living room and lit the fire in the grate while Hermione flopped onto the couch to think.

'It could be anything,' she said thinking aloud. 'Trees, trees – branches, leaves - hey maybe the answer's in tea leaves!'

'This coming from the girl who quit Divination when she didn't believe in it,' said Harry. 'No it can't be that simple. Phineas Nigellus likes to have his jokes, I think. A bit like Peeves.'

'So you think he doesn't mean trees at all?'

'Probably not,' said Harry leaning against the wall. 'Maybe not real trees. What sort of fake trees can you have? You know, what's the word -'

'Metaphorical?' said Hermione who was suddenly sat bolt upright.

'That's right. Wrap that immense brain of yours around that.'

'A tree with branches,' said Hermione who was now stood up.

'Well most have them,' said Harry, eyeing her warily.

'In this house.'

'That's what he said.'

'And Dumbledore mentioned tapestry.'

'Did he, I wasn't listening.'

'Harry...'

Hermione was pointing at the wall behind him. Almost with a dread of slow understanding, Harry stepped forward and turned around.

'The Black Family tree,' he said.

'It must be the only tree of any kind here,' said Hermione. 'This must be what he was on about.'

'But how will this help us?'

'My area of expertise, you said,' said Hermione. 'My task. Harry read through the names.'

'Why?'

'Aren't we looking for a set of initials? A set of initials that Dumbledore found at his death. A set of initials that might have been part of a family from the Dark Side?'

'R.A.B!' Harry cried. 'The B could stand for Black.'

'Start looking,' said Hermione.

Frantically they began scanning the tapestry.

'Meliflua, Malfoy, Lestrange,' said Harry reading the names at his eye level.

'Harry,' said Hermione in barely a whisper. 'What about this one?'

Harry looked down. Hermione was pointing at Sirius's name which, Harry saw with a pang, now included a death date. He followed the line sideways to another name.

'Regulus Black!' Harry exclaimed. 'But he died, Sirius told me.'

'Harry – there is no date of death,' said Hermione. 'What if - now this is just an idea – but what if he faked his own death? Other people have done it and wouldn't it have been better to appear dead to escape being captured by Voldemort? It makes sense.'

'But we only have two initials,' said Harry. 'How do we know his middle name began with A?'

'Didn't you say you wanted to follow every lead?'

'Well, yes,' said Harry. 'But where do we start?'

'We already have started,' said Hermione. 'The question is what to do next, and I have a plan. It might take a while but it could work.'

'What do you need?'

'Just one thing,' said Hermione. 'That locket from around your neck.'


	15. Hermione's Discovery

For much of the next day Harry didn't see Hermione or whatever she was concocting with the fake Horcrux locket. She locked herself in one of the upper bedrooms with a stack of books, her cauldron, candles and many assorted trinkets and ingredients that she had gathered from Harry knew not where. There were occasional bangs and puffs of smoke seeping out from under the door but after one heavy scolding for asking if she was alright Harry thought it best to leave her to it.

Luckily Ron came around at noon to catch up on what was going on. He likened the minor explosions emanating from Hermione's location to Fred and George's bedroom at the Burrow, a comparison that Harry wasn't comfortable with at all. Ron pointed out, though, that if Hermione was working then she was in her element and it was best to get out of her way.

'You know what she's like,' he said. 'She's a little bit dangerous at times. Too much magic for her own good, I say. But she must know what she's doing and you'll only put her off. She'll come to you when she's good and ready.'

'How are things at home?' asked Harry.

'Quiet,' said Ron. 'Bill and Fleur have gone away on honeymoon to somewhere exotic; Dad's hardly ever out of the Ministry and Ginny's back at Hogwarts. All in all it's a bit weird there.'

'What about you? Been to see Luna recently?'

'What? Why would I?' said Ron blushing into his red hair. 'Who've you been talking to?'

'Nobody,' said Harry. 'Why so defensive?'

'I'm not being defensive, who says I'm defensive?' said Ron, somewhat defensively.

'I just thought,' said Harry, 'that after the wedding and our chat the other day that maybe you'd changed your mind about her. You could do a hell of a lot worse, you know.'

'Since when have you become so interested in my love life.'

'Oh, so its _love_ is it,' Harry smirked. 'How quaint!'

'Shut up, Harry,' said Ron, throwing a cushion at Harry, his cheeks and hair now matching colour. 'I was just saying that you're not exactly an expert in these areas yourself.'

'I'm not doing too badly now,' Harry replied, as yet another loud bang echoed from upstairs.

'Yeah, and look how long that took!'

'Well that was kind of your fault,' Harry pointed out. 'Ever since fourth year I thought you fancied Hermione and that would have stopped me making a move for her even if I had acknowledged my feelings back then.'

'Why would that have mattered?' asked Ron. 'If she'd liked you too, which we all reckoned she did, I would have been okay with it.'

'Really!' Harry snorted. 'You would have been as _okay_ with me as you were with Krum, eh?'

'Maybe I'd have been a little annoyed,' said Ron. 'But I'd have gotten over it. I did when you were made Quidditch Captain and when you told me I only got made a Prefect over you because Dumbledore thought you had enough stress on.'

'This is a bit different,' Harry pointed out. 'I'd have probably lost you as a friend, and I couldn't afford to do that. I don't have very many. Not real ones anyway. In any case, I bet I'd have messed it up. Like you said, my track record isnt great.'

'You and me both, mate,' said Ron. 'Lavender, Hermione...not much of a success rate is it. We're both as bad as each other.'

Harry had to agree. They continued talking about each others failures with the opposite sex until they had lunch, which consisted of some excellent pasties Mrs Weasley had sent with Ron for she was convinced Harry and Hermione were starving under their own devices. It was about one o'clock when the kitchen door burst open and Hermione came in. Harry couldn't help but feel she looked so cute; her fringe and eyebrows were singed and black, her face scarred with soot and dust, her cloak smoking in places.

'What have you been doing up there?' asked Harry, somewhat taken aback by Hermione's condition.

'Trying to combine a Locator Spell with a Memory Charm.' she explained in an exhausted voice. 'If Regulus Black made that fake Horcrux he must have used the real one to copy from. I was hoping it would leave an imprint that would link the two. I've been trying to extract his magical residue from the fake Horcrux and use it to find the real one.'

Both Harry and Ron looked gawpingly at Hermione. Harry wasn't sure if he felt prouder or more intimidated that his girlfriend was not only insightful enough to have concocted such an idea, but also powerful enough to have carried it out.

'What?' Hermione asked, looking puzzled as Harry and Ron continued to stare at her.

'How did you come up with that?' asked Harry, unable to hide a trace of awe in his voice.

'Oh well,' Hermione began, slightly flustered. 'I've been thinking about it ever since we first saw the initials. I did a little research but without knowing who R.A.B was there was nowhere to start for the spell.'

'But that's seriously advanced magic,' whispered Ron. 'And I mean, seriously advanced. Even for you.'

'Well, I suppose it is,' said Hermione, beaming. 'But it isnt all good news.'

'Why? What did you find out?' asked Harry.

'For a start, the real Horcrux is still out there,' Hermione began. 'Regulus wasn't able to destroy it, so if we get it back we still have to work out how to. But getting it back will be hard enough.'

'Do you mean you know where it is?'

'Yes, and I know that Regulus still has it.'

'Then he's still alive!' cried Harry. 'He can tell us what he knows.'

'I wouldnt count on that, Harry,' said Hermione ruefully.

'Why not?' asked Harry. 'If he turned against Voldemort surely he will want to help us.'

'Cant you just say You-Know-Who?' Ron moaned.

'No,' Harry and Hermione chorused together.

'I'm confused, Hermione,' said Harry. 'Why wouldnt he want to help?'

'He might have wanted to,' said Hermione. 'But he wont really be in any state to. You see, the locator spell pointed right to the cave where the Horcrux was kept. It's still there, Harry.'

Harry thought hard for a moment. 'But there was no-one else there when me and Dumbledore went. We would have seen him.'

'Maybe you did, but he might have - er - not seemed himself.'

Harry thought hard again, Hermione looking imploringly at him. Understanding began to dawn.

'He would have had to get the locket the same way Dumbledore did,' he mused.

'By drinking the potion -' Hermione continued.

'And it would have weakened him -'

'Then he would have grown thirsty -'

'Like Dumbledore -'

'And gone to the water -'

Harry's voice caught in his throat, which had become appropriately dry all of a sudden. He looked at Hermione, the dull horror of understanding reflected in the other's eyes.

'This is all very romantic,' Ron blurted out. 'But will someone let me in on the discussion?'

Harry turned slowly to Ron, then back to Hermione. He spoke just one word, almost as if asking a question, one to which he half-hoped he would hear a different answer to the one he knew was the truth.

'Inferi.'

Hermione nodded as Ron gasped.

'He's one of them?' Ron asked.

'That would explain the lack of a death date on the tapestry,' said Harry, nodding in understanding. 'He's not wholly dead, is he?'

'Inferi are half-dead,' Hermione explained. 'They are kin of Dementors, and with similar powers. If Regulus was made into one of them _by them_ then he half-lives, somewhere deep in the water of the lake in that cave.'

'And you think he's still wearing the locket, the real one I mean?' asked Harry. Hermione nodded. 'Then it was there all the time, still quite safe from anyone.'

'Still safe from us,' said Ron bluntly. 'How are we supposed to take on an army of Inferi?'

'Voldemort has a way of controlling Inferi,' Hermione pointed out. 'It must be possible.'

'And Dumbledore used fire to shield us,' Harry added. 'They must be vulnerable to it.'

'I don't think we really have the time to go learning anything so advanced though,' said Hermione. 'We have to stick to what we know.'

'If we do that we're doomed,' Ron added, glumly.

'All I need is a way to get into that water without the Inferi getting to me,' said Harry.

'No, don't even joke about that,' said Hermione seriously. 'That's too dangerous.'

'We're fighting Voldemort!' cried Harry, ignoring Ron's customary wince. 'Everything is dangerous.'

'But this is too much!' Hermione fired back, taking a step towards him. 'I'm not sending you into a watery pit full of dead people!'

'But we need to get the Horcrux,' Harry reasoned, stepping in also. 'And risks need to be taken.'

'But I'm not risking you!' said Hermione, nearly shouting now in her anger. 'You're too important. I'd sooner run away and leave the world to it than send you so close to death on purpose.'

'Then find a way to keep me safe because I'm doing this,' said Harry simply. 'It's the best chance we have and we have to act.'

Hermione threw her arms around him, exasperated in her defeat. She wasn't crying, which pleased Harry; she was starting to understand what this mission meant and he could almost hear her brain whirring away as it considered the problem. She broke away and began pacing the room.

'Well I suppose we have two basic problems,' she began, as much to herself as the others. 'Allowing you to breathe underwater and keeping the Inferi away from you.'

'The first one is easy,' said Ron. 'Just do what you did in the Triwizard tournament. What was that stuff called that Dobby got you?'

'Gillyweed,' said Harry. 'Great idea. They might have some at Hogwarts.'

'Unlikely,' said Hermione. 'Barty Crouch Jnr put Neville and Dobby onto that idea, I bet ten Galleons he brought it from outside.'

'How nice it'd be to have ten Galleons to bet on things that like,' Ron said, then flushed quickly as if he'd not meant to voice this aloud.

'You could transfigure yourself like Viktor did,' said Hermione. 'But, again, Animagi magic is incredibly advanced and we don't have the time to learn it.'

'What about that thing Fleur did?' asked Harry. 'She put herself in a sort of air bubble. Could you do that?'

'The Bubble Head Charm wasn't it?' said Hermione, frowning as she tried to remember. 'We could certainly try to learn that one. It's just one spell after all.'

'And they've generally all worked for you,' said Harry, winking at her. She grinned back at him. 'But what about Problem Number Two? I need some sort of cage. Preferably made of fire.'

'That can go underwater?' Hermione pointed out, doubtfully. 'Therein lies the problem.'

'Are you a witch or not!' cried Ron, incredulously. 'And havent you been conjuring portable, waterproof fires since you first burned Snape with them during Harry's early Quidditch days? _Honestly._ '

'Oh yes! Of course!' said Hermione, clapping a hand to her forehead. 'That's brilliant, Ron.'

'Dont sound _too_ surprised,' he said. 'I have my moments.'

'You tell her,' said Harry, chuckling supportively. 'The question is, how can you cover me in fire without burning my skin off? I'd rather not be a charred mess by the end of this.'

'There may be a way,' said Hermione, blushing ever so slightly. 'It could be the same as my Inverted Killing Curse. I could modify the spell so that you are impervious to the flames.'

'And how would you do that?'

'Its like you said, magic is all about will,' said Hermione. 'If I alter the incantation I could weave in a protective element so that you cant be harmed.'

Harry looked at her tenderly, disarmed as always that she'd memorised his words. But there was something else, something far more potent on his mind.

'Hermione - that...that sounds like my mother's ancient magic. The one she used when -'

'I know,' Hermione cut across, whispering quietly, and looking at him with such affection that he was transfixed by her. 'Thats where I got the idea. Ive been thinking about it for some time, ever since we destroyed the last Horcrux. Ever since you told me what Dumbledore thought your ' _power he knows not'_ might be. I thought maybe there was something I could do that was similar, that might keep Voldemort away from you.'

'What are you trying to say?' Harry managed to breathe. Hermione was so close now and they were speaking so low it was doubtful that Ron could hear.

'I think you know, but I don't want to say until I'm absolutely sure,' said Hermione, beaming at him with such radiance she might have been made of solid gold. 'If this plan works, then I will.'

Harry didn't know what to say, but, not for the first time, he didn't need words to communicate with Hermione. He knew what she meant, and he knew that he was feeling all the same things she was. The thoughts were terrifying and exhilarating, weakening and empowering all at once. Harry wanted to give into them, understanding at once Hermione's own hesitancy. But he could feel a new potential in him, a new power he hadnt known before. It was growing, just beneath the surface and as he looked at the glow in Hermione's eyes he knew one thing - if he met Voldemort with this power the Dark Lord wouldnt stand a chance against him.


	16. A Royal Return

Harry, as hot-headed as always, wanted to race off to the cave right away. It took Hermione, reprising her role as the voice of reason, to point out to him that whilst they had the outline of a plan the fine details needed to be addressed, namely mastering the complex spells they currently had no idea how to perform. Reluctantly, Harry shelved his frustration and set to the task of working out the next steps.

The first move was to return to Hogwarts and hit the books. If they were going to learn these new charms then there was no better place to be. Hermione was at her happiest with a tottering pile of dusty tomes for company and even Ron was bright and cheerful. Harry half thought it was maybe the chance of investigating possibilities with Luna as much as Horcrux-hunting, but it was more likely the easy access to food from the school kitchens.

"I do miss this," said Ron one afternoon, after being delivered a tray of pastries and tea cakes from the house-elves. "Say what you like about the place, but they always know how to keep us fed."

"Do I need to remind you this is based on slavery?" said Hermione crossly, peering over the rim of _Friendly Fire - Turn Burns to Tickles._

"It's not slavery," Ron protested. "They _like_ serving us."

"What!" Hermione thundered, slamming her book closed.

"Hermione, don't start," said Harry quickly.

"Oh don't tell me, you're taking his side in this!" she shrieked back.

"I'm not taking sides," said Harry. "You know I think you're right, but Ron's not wholly wrong either. In any case, we have enough battles to fight at the moment. Cant you just focus on one war at a time?"

"I can't believe you sometimes, Harry," Hermione fumed back. "You're supposed to be the Chosen One - Champion for all!"

"I didn't call myself that," he said simply. "And I'm trying to save everyone as best I can, and thats by having eyes for just one enemy right now."

"Well maybe that's too short sighted!" she cried.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Oh forget it," said said angrily. She gathered up her things.

"Where are you going?" asked Harry.

"Anywhere that's away from you two and your pig heads!"

And with that she stormed out of the Common Room, where they had been studying.

"Now what the hell was that all about?" asked Ron.

"Your guess is as good as mine," said Harry. "She's been a bit snappy for a few days."

"Women, eh?" said Ron. "Maybe we'll never work them out."

"Speaking of which," said Harry, grinning mischievously. "What were you working out with Luna yesterday? I saw you walking her back to the castle from the Herbology greenhouses. Looked very cosy!"

"Oh, well yeah," said Ron. "I went to see Hagrid, you know. Thought you and Hermione could do with some alone time. Maybe thats why she's been so miserable! Anyway, I just saw Luna walking back on her own after her class so I thought I'd go to keep her company. And you know what, Harry, you were right."

"I was? That makes a change. Er - about what?"

"She's really quite pretty, isnt she? Luna, I mean. I never really saw it before. And I've always had a thing for blondes."

"Ron, mate, you've always had a thing for any girl whose nose was central," Harry laughed. "Unless you've had a secret crush on Malfoy all these years!"

"Urgh can you imagine?" said Ron, disgusted.

"I'd rather not," Harry replied.

"Where is that dirtbag anyway?" said Ron. "Have you seen him about?"

"No," said Harry. "McGonagall said the Order have hidden his mother but Malfoy is still in the school somewhere. Maybe in the Slytherin Common Room on his own."

"Should've locked him in the Chamber of Secrets with the dead basilisk," said Ron bitterly. "I hope he's lonely wherever he is."

* * *

Autumn became winter seemingly in the space of a few days. The chilly breezes of mid-October gave way to full blown icy winds and frost tinted mornings. The fires of Hogwarts were constantly lit but the corridors were now frequented by icy draughts. These were nothing compared to Hermione's frosty attitude to Harry, however, which hadn't yet thawed since the house-elf row. In fact, she was getting even more waspish with him if anything and Harry was glad to have Ron around for support.

"Is this really necessary?" Harry moaned as Hermione made him slave through _Grindylows and their Weaknesses._ "I've fought these things. I know how to get rid of them."

"It doesn't hurt to refresh your memory," said Hermione bossily. "This practical defence class was your idea, if I remember rightly. If you are expecting me to work on a lesson schedule for Headmistress McGonagall _and_ invent a spell to stop you being murdered by Inferi then you can do something yourself. If you don't stop whingeing I'll make you train to wrestle a Blast-Ended Skrewt. Would you like that? I'm sure Hagrid has some running around somewhere, or, heaven forbid, something worse he might have concocted."

She cast a cautionary glance out of the window of the Great Hall, where they were having a working lunch, as if expecting to see some foul, many-winged and many-fanged beast fly past the castle on cue.

"What's gotten into you?" said Harry, rounding on her. "What have I done now?"

"Nothing, that's the point," Hermione snapped, returning Harry's tone with a sharp one of her own.

"There's plenty of time to plan the lessons," said Harry. "What's the rush?"

"The rush, _dear_ , is that I know you weren't planning to teach this class at all if you could help it. I know your real reason; you forget how well I know _you._ "

"And what is that then?"

"You planned to learn some of the Dark Arts to use against Voldemort," said Hermione bluntly. To his left Harry heard Ron gasp and on some deep level he knew that the suggestion must have been truly bad to make Ron disapprove. He didn't really register it, though, as his gaze was burning into Hermione's face.

"How can you even suggest that?" said Harry.

"Because it's the truth, isn't it?"

"No," said Harry, whose tone didn't even convince himself.

"Oh come off it, Harry," said Hermione. "You told McGonagall you wanted to _use the resources_ here. You know that as a teacher you could access all the Dark Arts text books without needing a permission slip. Never crossed your mind, did it?"

"Not once," said Harry, lying resolutely. "You seem to have given the idea a bit of thought, though."

"Meaning what?"

"Enough!" said Ron forcefully. "If you want to have a lovers tiff you'd be better off doing it at home. People are starting to stare."

"Hang everybody else!" cried Hermione. "This is much more important than a few eavesdropping kids!"

"Always such a people person," said Ron smirking in Harry's direction.

"Er, I don't think antagonising her is a good idea," said Harry warningly.

"Why? Its only Hermione? Not like she's going to do anything nasty, is it?"

Harry groaned and closed his eyes. He didn't have to wait more than a few seconds.

" _Only Hermione?"_ she cried shrilly. "We'll see how much it's _only_ me."

She waved her wand at Ron and out shot at least fifty spiders that all began scampering towards him. Harry watched in a mixture of amusement and horror as Ron seemed to take off from a seating position and fly onto the window sill.

"Lets see how to get out of that without _only me_ to save you this time," said Hermione.

"Hermione, get rid of them, that's enough," said Harry as Hermione ordered the spiders to torment Ron. "You know how scared of them he is."

"Then maybe I should send them at you!"

Harry saw the spiders spin around and make for him. He drew his wand, gave it a lazy little flick and they all vanished into thin air.

"Any more parlour tricks, or are you just going to tell me what's wrong?" asked Harry.

"You really just don't get it, do you?" said Hermione, who no longer seemed angry but on the edge of tears.

"Obviously not," said Harry. "Why don't you enlighten me?"

"Oh forget it, Harry," said Hermione before turning on her heel and storming from the room.

"I'll see you later," said Harry to Ron, getting up and racing after Hermione. He caught her before she was even at the main staircase and, after some fierce protests, guided her from the castle and down towards the Great Lake. Once out of sight of the castle he turned to her.

"Enough of this, are you ever going to tell me what this is really about?" said Harry in a firm voice.

"What _what_ is really about?"

"You being so angry with me all the time," said Harry. "What have I done, or not done, to deserve this?"

"I'm not angry with you," said Hermione, looking a little hurt.

"Then why are you speaking to me like I've walked into your house on Christmas Day and peed on your favourite toys?"

Hermione chanced a half laugh and sat down on the bank.

"I'm sorry, Harry, I know I've been taking it out on you, and its not fair," she said gently. "I've just got some things on my mind."

"Other than the obvious I suppose," said Harry sitting with her. "What's wrong?"

Hermione closed her eyes and sighed.

"I'm late, Harry."

"Late? Late for what?"

She looked at him and tilted her head, her eyes full of meaning. Harry shivered as he registered the information

"I really am getting good at Legilimency," he said softly as he moved closer to Hermione. "You mean you haven't had... you mean..."

"At last he understands," said Hermione as Harry stared at her.

"Oh..." said Harry. "W-what does that mean?"

"What do you think it means?" Hermione said. "Biology not your best subject, is it?"

"But you can't be...can't be... _that_ ," Harry stammered.

"I can, but I might not be," said Hermione. "I'm late, that's all. And I'm never late. You know me, do everything as efficiently as possible."

"How late?"

"A few days."

"Is that a lot?"

"For me it is," said Hermione. "I'm never usually more than a day either side of when I should be. It's been five now."

"Maybe it was something you ate," said Harry, slightly desperate. "Maybe it was something you didn't eat."

"It doesn't work like that," said Hermione, smiling at Harry's tone.

"Well, what are you going to do?"

"Don't you mean what are _we_ going to do?" she said. "This is a joint thing."

"Yeah - course," said Harry. "That's what I meant."

"Nothing's certain yet," said Hermione. "We'll cross that bridge when we get to it."

"Another thing to think about," Harry said, trying not to sound overwhelmed. "Remember the old days when things were easy for us?"

"Things have never been easy for us," Hermione corrected him. "The only easy day we've had was when we met on the train our first day at Hogwarts. And even that wasn't easy because I was annoying enough to make you dislike me at first."

"That isn't true," Harry protested. "I never disliked you."

"Much," Hermione said with a smirk.

"Okay, so you were hard work at first," Harry admitted. "But you mellowed as soon as you came around to mine and Ron's way of thinking."

"Excuse me but I have never, and I hope I never do, think like you and Ron," said Hermione hotly. "I take that as an insult. I have some dignity, you know. Breaking fifty school rules in one go was hardly a clever plan."

"It worked though," said Harry. "And you enjoyed it, really. All that, _'you're a great wizard, Harry,_ ' stuff. Been flirting with me for years, really, haven't you?"

"And look how long it's taken you to notice!" Hermione exclaimed.

"Good things come to those who wait," said Harry. "But back to the point - why didn't you say anything before?"

"There's nothing really to say," said Hermione. "And I didn't want to worry you with any more issues until I was sure."

"But you shouldn't have been going through this alone."

"I've been seeing Madam Pomfrey," said Hermione. "Its too early to say anything definite and she thinks it might just be stress. I have so much more to lose now, its probably playing havoc with my hormones."

"What else do you have to lose?" asked Harry, confused.

" _You,_ you silly oaf," said Hermione, slipping an arm around him. She sighed, half contented, half exhausted. "Maybe we should just run away, Harry. Raise a family, grow old."

"We will do all those things," said Harry. "But I don't want Voldemort coming after our kids, do you? We have to stop him first, make a safe world for them."

Hermione looked at him again with that foundation-shakingly tender expression she'd recently developed for him.

"Harry, have you thought about us having children?"

"I - well," Harry started uncertainly. "Not, you know, having them tomorrow or anything. Though maybe that might be happening..."

"But you have?"

"I've always wanted my own family, you know that," said Harry. "I never got to have one because of Voldemort, so I'd like to think that once he's gone I can put that right."

"And, maybe, put that right with me? That we could be the family you never had?"

"Well, I wouldn't want to say that," said Harry. "Its a lot of pressure, isn't it?"

"But you have thought about it?" Hermione pushed.

"I imagine you've been doing a lot of thinking about it, considering everything," said Harry, trying to shift the focus from himself.

"Yes, but girls often do that," said Hermione. "I used to sign our initials in little hearts, that sort of thing. But when boys do it, it's a signal of something more serious."

"But we are serious, aren't we?" asked Harry.

"Of course we we," said Hermione, snuggling in. "I just hadn't realised how much, especially how much for you."

"Is that a problem? You seem a little scared."

"I'm terrified," said Hermione. "But its a good terrified, if you know what I mean. Its not something I can learn about from a book."

"That must really be shaking you up!" Harry laughed.

"Precisely," said Hermione. "Its wonderful to know just how much you care for me, and that you're thinking about our future, but also makes the possibility of losing you so much worse."

"You know I cant guarantee any of our safety," said Harry. "But fighting back is the best chance to get through this."

"Then lets get to it," said Hermione, suddenly leaping up. "We've wasted days - its mostly my fault, but I need to pull myself together. We need to forget this teaching thing and focus on this locket. Come on."

Hermione helped Harry to his feet and they made their way back up the bank towards the school. As they reached the light filtering out from the Entrance Hall, Harry happened to glance over towards the outline of Hagrid's cabin. His eye was caught at the school gates where, silhouetted against the light from Hagrid's hut, a figure was clearly visible.

"Who's that?" Harry said to Hermione.

"I don't know," she replied. "I can't make it out from here."

"Let's go and look," said Harry.

"Harry, I don't think that's a good idea," said Hermione. "We should get someone else to do it. Filch, maybe. Or Hagrid."

"It won't take a minute," said Harry, who was already moving towards the path. Hermione, somewhat reluctantly, followed and they made their way up the winding road to the gates. About fifty yards from the gates Harry stopped dead in his tracks, his heart beating hard. From the light it was clear who this was. There was just no mistaking that sallow skin, the mass of greasy hair or the hooked nose amplified in profile.

Severus Snape was at the gates of Hogwarts, trying to get in.


	17. Heirs and Graces

For a moment, Harry felt frozen. Whatever he had expected to find at the school gates this turn of events was about as far away from that as he could have imagined. His momentary paralysis gave him time to weigh up Snape; his skin seemed somehow sallower than usual, though Harry accepted this could be due to the lack of light around, but he also appeared somewhat bedraggled and untidy. No matter how much Harry had always detested the sight of Snape he always looked well presented.

"You!" Harry breathed.

"Potter," Snape sneered by way of reply.

Harry righted himself at the sound of his name escaping the lips of this most hated of men. His wand was out quick as a flash, pointing at the small target where Harry assumed Snape's black heart might have been.

"Harry, I don't think that's a good idea," Hermione whispered at his side.

"I think I know best on this one, Hermione," said Harry, barely able to believe that she was trying to talk him out of this.

"Please yourself," Hermione sighed. Harry ignored her for the most part, but there was lack of conviction in the way he performed the Disarming spell.

"Expelliarmus!" he cried. It took only a moment to remember why Hermione was always worth listening to. Harry's spell shot from the end of his wand, hit the gates separating him from Snape and rebounded back, smashing him squarely in the chest. He was thrown back several feet by the impact and landed with an uncomfortable thud on the path behind. His wand span in the air and came down neatly for Hermione to catch.

"Now, you know I'm not the kind to say _'I told you so,'_ " Hermione began as Harry got gingerly to his feet and rejoined her.

"Then don't start being one now," Harry snapped as he interrupted her.

"There's no need to be like that, Harry," said Hermione, her voice betraying a trace of hurt. "I'm only looking out for you, you know."

"Then in future why not just _tell_ me when something like that's going to happen before I make myself look like an idiot. You may enjoy riddles but they aren't my thing."

"You're right, I'm sorry," said Hermione solemnly.

"What a pair of dunderheads you are," cackled Snape. "You would have thought, in your position, that you would be concentrating on bigger issues, but instead you bicker between yourselves. The Dark Lord knows all too well that your greatest weakness is each other. He really has little to fear from either of you."

"I wouldn't be so confident about yourself," said Harry.

"Really?" said Snape sarcastically. "Have you developed hitherto unknown skills, Potter? Or are you just relying on _someone else's_ talents yet again? You really are a joke. Without Dumbledore you're just a puny little boy; just as vulnerable, just as powerless to prevent the inevitable."

"Vulnerable, eh?" said Harry. "You can't even get through the gates! How dangerous can you be?"

"The magic on this school is older and more powerful than anything you could even perceive," said Snape. "But like all barriers there is a way through."

"And why exactly would you want to get through?" asked Harry.

"The day I start sharing my personal business with you, Potter, is the day Hagrid becomes a member of the League of Geniuses," Snape sneered. "And in any case, do you really think I would just come out and answer your question? Interrogation seems to be yet another area in which you have the skills and subtlety of a troll."

"Well perhaps you could teach him now that it looks like Voldemort has kicked you out," said Hermione.

Snape recoiled slightly. "The Dark Lord has not kicked me out."

"Really?" said Hermione. "Just trying to break into the school in the dead of night to swim with the Giant Squid then, I suppose?"

"I offer you the same response I gave to Potter just a moment ago," said Snape. "Or are you deaf as well as, _hem_ , _blind?"_

Snape nodded towards Harry as a signal of his insult.

"The day I take advice from you on my love life will be the day that greasy skin and straggly, curtain hair becomes the height of fashion, and though you dream of that day I can't see it arriving any time soon."

Harry chuckled as Snape's expression darkened through the gates. A scraping from down the path drew everyone's attention and Harry turned to see Hagrid loping up the steep bank towards them.

"What you two doin' out this late?" he asked. "You shouldn't be out wanderin' the grounds."

"We saw Snape standing at the school gates and came to ward him off," said Harry.

"Snape?" said Hagrid, alarmed. "Where?"

"Right...there," said Harry, who was surprised to find, on spinning back around, that Snape has vanished. Comfortingly, the gates were still firmly shut.

"He was here a moment ago," said Harry.

"He was," said Hermione, nodding to Hagrid in agreement. "He must have Disapparated."

"He was outside the grounds," said Harry in thought.

"Well who am I to question the word of the both of ya?" said Hagrid. "Should tell McGonagall first thing. C'mon, I'll walk ya back up to the castle."

There was no talking on the walk back up and the atmosphere was distinctly edgy. Harry was peering through the darkness, trying to pick out any shadow that might be Snape stealing around the grounds. But there was none to be seen and soon enough he and Hermione were bidding goodnight to Hagrid and making their way towards Gryffindor Tower.

"What do you think he was after?" said Harry before the portrait had even swung closed.

"Take your pick," replied Hermione. "Could have been any of a hundred things. None of them good."

"Well at least we know he can't get in," said Harry. "That's something."

"For now," said Hermione darkly.

"What do you mean?"

"Oh come on, Harry," said Hermione exasperatedly. "If Snape was trying to break into Hogwarts in the dead of night then there is obviously something he wants, or something he wants to do. Don't tell me that all your experiences of the last six years have taught you nothing. You don't really think that just because we stopped him from concentrating on the protection charms once that he won't try again?"

"Well, no, of course not," said Harry unconvincingly. "But he must know that we are going to tell McGonagall or the Order and that it won't be as easy for him."

"Harry – do you really think that Snape is at all worried about McGonagall?" asked Hermione. "The snake killed Dumbledore. McGonagall is powerful but nowhere near as much as Dumbledore or, I'm sorry to say, anywhere near as strong as Snape."

Harry made to argue but lost heart when he thought that Hermione was probably right. They were now sat beside the fire, its crumbling embers throwing the room into a subtle red relief.

"Then we have to do something," said Harry after a few silent moments. "He may not be afraid of McGonagall or the Order but he will be wary of me. That's something at least."

"But what do you expect to do?" asked Hermione. "Patrol the castle perimeter morning, noon and night? That's not realistic, is it? Besides, you need to be fresh and alert in case anything unexpected arises. Cant have the Boy Wonder Who Lived fighting Voldemort, Snape and goodness knows who else at the same time he's fighting his own fatigue."

"Don't call me that," said Harry meekly. "I don't like hearing you say it."

"Why not?" asked Hermione. "I quite like the idea of being Mrs Chosen One. Oh..."

Hermione suddenly turned away. Harry felt the awkwardness wash over him at a stroke. It took him a moment to realise why as he processed what Hermione had inadvertently suggested. Oddly, he didn't feel quite as embarrassed about it.

"What's up?" he asked.

"Oh, well, you know," said Hermione distantly. "I didn't mean – I mean, I didn't _not_ mean... if you know what I mean?"

"Not really," said Harry smirking. "It's ok."

"It is?"

"Yeah," said Harry rising. "Besides, my mum and dad only started going out in seventh year and this would have been ours. Night."

Harry left her grinning alone thinking this was a pretty good way to part.

* * *

In Headmistress McGonagall's office the next morning the atmosphere was tense as Harry retold the story of his night-time meeting with Snape. Professor McGonagall listened closely to Harry's words, her face visibly contorting every time Harry mentioned the name of his most hated Hogwarts teacher. When he was done they both sat very quietly; what Professor McGonagall was thinking Harry couldn't even guess – her expression was stern but then it always was anyway so that gave nothing away. Harry, for his part, merely occupied himself by looking around the circular office, lamenting the warmth and comfort which had abandoned it with the passing of Dumbledore.

Presently, Professor McGonagall spoke. "So you believe Severus Snape was trying to break into Hogwarts?"

"Yes," said Harry, fighting the urge to extol the obviousness of events.

"And you say Hermione Granger was with you, and that both she and Hagrid can corroborate this story?"

"Hermione can," said Harry. "But when Hagrid turned up Snape disappeared. He must have Disapparated because one minute he was there and the next he was gone."

"And how did his mood seem?" asked McGonagall.

"H-his mood?" asked Harry, thrown by the question.

"Yes, his mood, Potter," McGonagall repeated firmly. "His manner – was it agitated, angry, desperate?"

"I couldn't really tell," said Harry. "It was dark and he blended into the night. He was his usual git self when he spoke."

"You will check your gutter language at the door," said the Headmistress with a frown.

"Sorry," Harry mumbled. "But we both know it is true."

"I'm not suggesting otherwise, but some things are better left unsaid."

"What do you think he could have wanted, Professor?" asked Harry.

"Hogwarts has many lures for someone like him," said McGonagall standing and moving to the window. "The possibilities are vast. Secrets, powers, people – there is an extensive list."

Harry couldn't help sensing that Professor McGonagall wasn't nearly as troubled by this as he thought she ought to be. Her manner was almost disinterested.

"What are we going to do about this, Professor?" asked Harry. "Something needs to be done."

"We aren't going to do anything," said McGonagall. "The security of Hogwarts and the safety of its students is my responsibility. Don't concern yourself with any of that, Potter. I've seen enough of your bright ideas over the years to guess pretty confidently that you fancy yourself as Chief Protector of the school, but you will leave this to me. Unless I am mistaken you have a lesson plan that needs completing soon. Focus on that, not on other things."

There was a finality in her tone that told Harry the discussion was over. He knew her well enough to know it was pointless to debate the point so made his courtesies and left. Walking along the corridors crowded with students on their way to lessons Harry couldn't help but wonder how much danger they were all in, and how little he believed Headmistress McGonagall was going to do about it. Again, it seemed, the responsibility to act would fall to him, as he told Hermione when he met her in the Gryffindor common room. To his immense surprise, she agreed with him.

"I'm not really that surprised," she said. "I didn't think she would do much."

"Why not?" asked Harry incredulously. "Snape is threatening the school! I think that's a pretty important thing to act on."

"Well you know what the teachers are like," said Hermione. "They all think the castle is impenetrable. All the charms and spells, they don't think anyone can reach them here. Voldemort hasn't so they don't think anyone else can. They all just turn a blind eye until something actually happens."

"Like the night Dumbledore was murdered," said Harry angrily.

"Exactly. They weren't prepared at all, and to be honest they aren't now. That's why I preferred to stay away from here. It's too vulnerable."

"Then we have to do something about it," said Harry.

"Like what?" asked Hermione. "We've already been over this. You can't do it yourself."

She was right, as always. He may have had a penchant for saving people but he couldn't be everywhere at once. And as much as he loathed Snape, their confrontation following Dumbledore's murder had proved just how lacking Harry was in combat magic skills. These worries stayed with Harry all day, and kept him awake for many hours that night. He took to peering from the window of the Gryffindor Tower dormitory, scanning the dark grounds for invaders he was sure were lurking there. His fears were not for himself, however, but for the one girl sleeping somewhere in the adjacent tower.

For Harry had been carefully considering Hermione's words ever since she'd said them, especially about how much he had grown to care for her. It was far beyond any affection he'd ever known; beyond friendship, beyond whatever state their relationship could be titled. She was now almost all he thought about, and every action referenced her in some way. It was an all consuming obsession, one so deep and satisfying that he resented himself for not taking hold of it sooner. He dreaded even the hint of anything bad happening to her and was jealous of all people she spoke to besides himself. His resolution to keep her safe was now so fierce and profound that he felt he would break a thousand laws if that's what it took to make it happen. The problem was he was feeling incredibly inadequate to carry it out.

Harry made it down to the Great Hall the next morning with the other early risers amongst the students on their way to breakfast. A few seventh year Ravenclaw's, one of which was Terry Boot, waved as they passed him but the rest reminded Harry of a bunch of beaverish Hermione-esque clones, with their heads buried inside textbooks. The image gave Harry a pang of guilt; this is what Hermione should be like, would be like, if she'd never met him. She'd be like these people, studying for tests and homework and only vaguely worried about the threat of Voldemort, which was a long way from the minds of these students. As it should be, Harry thought to himself.

It was a morose chain of thought that stayed with Harry until the girl herself joined him at the Gryffindor table.

"Bad dream or something?" Hermione asked, pulling a rack of toast towards her.

"What?" said Harry.

"Your face," said Hermione. "You look terrible. Something wrong?"

"Oh, nothing," he lied, looking past her eyes. "It's a horrible world, hardly the time to be jolly."

"That's the spirit," she teased.

"You seem a bit happy," said Harry. "You had some good news or something?"

"Or something," she smiled. "You aren't going to be a daddy just yet."

"Oh, sorry, I completely forgot," said Harry, ashamed. "But it's not going to happen?"

"Nope," said Hermione smearing marmalade on her toast.

"You seem happy about that," said Harry. "Didn't like the idea, did you?"

"What has gotten into you this morning? You're like a goblin with a sore head. Of course I _like_ the idea but not now. That's way down the line. We have to have our own lives first. And, in any case, it was you who said this wasn't the kind of world you want to bring a child into."

"No...no, you're right," said Harry. "Ignore me, I'm just being a prat. It just seems like there's nothing going right at the moment, its getting to me."

"I wouldn't say that," said Hermione. "You just have to look on the bright side."

"Which is?"

"Well," said Hermione, thinking hard. "You still have your health."

"Is that it?" smirked Harry.

"Pretty much," said Hermione, smirking back. "Oh come on, Harry, cheer up. Okay, it's mostly doom and gloom, but there's always hope. And if it all turns out badly we can join Moaning Myrtle in her bathroom. We can have a cubicle each."

Harry guffawed at Hermione's words. He looked up to see Ron enter the Great Hall and cross to them.

"Morning," he said brightly. "Ooh, pass me some crumpets, Hermione – I'm starving."

"Where've you been?" asked Harry. "You look shattered. I bet you haven't been to bed recently, have you?"

"What makes you say that?" asked Ron with his mouth full.

"The bags under your eyes are a giveaway," said Harry. "And besides, didn't you always say that being up this early is against your religion?"

"This is true," said Ron. "But I'm a busy boy now."

"Why's that?" asked Harry.

"I was going to work with Dad for the last few weeks before we, you know, made up and stuff," said Ron awkwardly. "He's heading up a new task force dealing with Muggle protection. With You-Know-Who attacking as many of them as us, the Ministry wanted an active unit to deal with it. And because Dad is mad about Muggles he's been put in charge. It's quite exciting; I've been following leads with Dad and the wizards working with him for the last few nights, even had a few skirmishes. I even met the Muggle Prime Minister – what a duffer he is."

Harry listened to Ron tell stories of his military like campaigns which always seemed to end with him narrowly avoiding an Avada Kedavra or the Muggle police.

"How come you've not mentioned this before?" asked Hermione, slightly scandalised.

"It was a secret," said Ron. "And we've not exactly been on speaking terms lately, have we? Anyway, we were in the North of England all night. Had a tip there was going to be an attack at a football match down there. You wouldn't believe how many fans were in the stadium. About fifty thousand – for football! The shame of it. I still don't get how you can like a sport with no broomsticks, but they seem to love it. Anyway, nothing happened. Dunno whether we had been seen or if it was a dud warning. I just thought I'd come by and see if Luna was up before I went for a kip. Oh, and you two, of course."

"Thanks," joked Harry.

"No, I didn't mean-"

"Sarcasm, Ron," said Harry quickly. "For future reference, that's what it sounds like."

"I'll try to remember!" said Ron sardonically. "Have you seen her anyway?"

"Who, Luna? Nah, sorry mate. Cant say I've been looking, though."

"Aww, how romantic," teased Ron. "Only got eyes for Hermione, eh?"

"I should hope so," said Hermione, whose head was half-hidden behind the Daily Prophet.

"Anyone died?" asked Ron with alarming casualness.

"Only your tact," said Hermione sniffily.

Ginny walked by and smiled at her brother, before it turned to a frown when she clocked Harry.

"Still not talking then?" asked Ron, nodding at Ginny.

"I think we've said all we have to say to each other," said Harry with an air of finality.

"So, anything exciting happened with you two?" asked Ron. Hermione flashed Harry a dangerous glare, but Harry had no intention of mentioning _those_ things. He told Ron about seeing Snape. Ron gasped and swore, ate more toast, then swore some more. He swore again when Harry told him of Headmistress McGonagall's apparent disinterest. "Is she _mad_? Doing nothing! Why don't they just open the gates and let the slimy git walk in!"

"I, er, think she just did," said Hermione suddenly.

"What?" asked Harry.

Hermione didn't answer. She was on her feet and her wand was out, and she had moved to place herself between Harry and the doors to the Great Hall. He peered around her and saw why; Professor McGonagall and Snape were talking in the Entrance Hall as easily as if they were discussing the latest Gryffindor versus Slytherin Quidditch match. Harry leapt up, drew his wand and darted around Hermione before rushing to face Snape. He skidded into the Entrance Hall with Hermione close on his heels, Ron's heavy footsteps echoed behind, too. Harry made to speak, or curse, but Professor McGonagall cast a Shield Charm and raised the other hand to silence any protests.

"Hardly necessary, Minerva," said Snape coolly, as he eyed the shimmering Shield.

"This is for Potter's well-being, not yours, Severus," Professor McGonagall replied. "I can imagine the spells he might attempt to cast on you. And with Miss Granger so close by he might actually do serious damage. You should be more wary."

"Oh, of course," Snape crooned. "I have heard they are a - well - _couple_ these days. It is possible he has taken on some of her skills, and I'm far more wary of hers than his."

On some deep, concealed level, Harry felt a surge of pride that even this evil, hated figure had respect for Hermione, no matter how begrudgingly he expressed it. But he was too angry to really appreciate this.

"Don't you talk about her, you filthy, cowardly, traitor!" Harry cried. "Don't you even look at her. I have learned new skills since our last battle and if Professor McGonagall drops this shield I'll show you just how much Hermione has improved me."

"That may well be," said Snape. "But you have no idea how far you still have to go. And if you can drop your anger for just one moment I can give you just what you need to take the next step."

Harry was thrown for a moment. Snape was talking, but he didn't sound like himself at all. He sounded weary, almost hopeful, as if throwing himself on Harry's mercy. Hermione made the next step, reaching up and lowering Harry's extended wand arm.

"What are you doing?" hissed Ron. "Don't drop your guard, Harry."

"What am I doing?" Harry asked, looking to Hermione for guidance.

"Letting me take this one," said Hermione, and before anyone could react she flicked her wand at Snape so fast it was a blur. "Legilimens!"

The Shield Charm was rendered useless by the power of Hermione's spell and Snape's eyes unfocused, but only for a moment. Harry saw him mutter a quick counter-curse and Hermione lowered her wand, smirking at him.

"Whatever he's here for, he's genuinely trying to help," said Hermione. "We should hear him out."

"The dungeons," said Snape. "They are closest and we wont be disturbed."

"Lead on, Severus," said McGonagall.

Harry followed in a daze, automatically standing behind Hermione, who seemed to be resonating a tangible power. Snape swept forward and into the dungeons and the others followed. Professor McGonagall cast locking and silencing charms on the door before turning to the others.

"Listen closely, Potter, Miss Granger, Mr Weasley," she began. "I know you harbour something bordering on hatred for Professor Snape but I ask, for me, for Dumbledore, that you give him the chance to explain himself. I realise this is asking for an immense leap of faith, but I know you all have it within you to make it."

Harry looked at Ron and Hermione; Ron seemed unsure, Hermione willing but also uncertain. They were looking to him for guidance. Reluctantly, Harry nodded.

"We will listen, but only after he admits to killing Dumbledore and explains why," said Harry. "And you will explain why you let him in here so easily, Headmistress."

"That seems fair," replied McGonagall. "And, in any case, both things are related. Severus?"

Snape sighed. In the faint light from the dim candles on the walls Harry could see how tired and drawn he looked. He had lost weight and his hair was flecked with grey stands amongst the usual greasy black. Harry felt the briefest pang of sympathy, but it passed quickly.

"I did kill Dumbledore," Snape began, "but on his orders."

"Why would he order that!" Harry spat. "You're lying!"

"He ordered it to protect Draco Malfoy," Snape explained. "The Dark Lord had tasked Draco with killing Dumbledore, as a punishment for the failures of Lucius Malfoy. Draco Malfoy was simply not capable of killing a wizard as great as Dumbledore but, as you should remember Potter, Dumbledore was weakened. In fact, he was as good as dead already."

"His hand," said Hermione. "It was a Dark curse, wasn't it?"

"An insufferable know-it-all till the end," said Snape, seemingly unable to resist.

"Watch it, Snape," said Harry dangerously. "This little tete-a-tete is against my better judgement as it is."

"Really? I didn't realise you had _better_ judgement, Potter. Perhaps you could have demonstrated it once in six years -"

"Enough!" cried Professor McGonagall. "This bickering is pointless. Tell your story, Severus."

"As I was saying Potter, and as your far better half pointed out, Dumbledore was cursed and dying. I performed the Killing Curse to save Draco Malfoy's soul, and to save Dumbledore being savaged by Bellatrix Lestrange or Fenrir Greyback or any number of other killers the Dark Lord might have employed for the task."

"Clears your conscience that, does it?" Harry hissed.

"Not in the slightest," said Snape. "I had never killed before then. And to kill the only real equal of the Dark Lord, a man who had offered not just me, but countless others, protection and hope from this evil, I was thus condemning us all to likely destruction. It was the hardest act of my life."

His words rang with truth and Harry couldn't deny him them. He even felt a slight appreciation for Snape's actions, for his sacrifice. He hated the thought of Dumbledore, however weakened, being tortured or ripped to pieces by Voldemort's minions.

"Despite my own reservations," Snape went on, "Dumbledore believed in you, Potter. There is something about you, something I cannot see, but both Dumbledore and the Dark Lord have always been aware of it. The Dark Lord marked you as his equal, transferred some of his power to you. And then there is this _power the Dark Lord knows not_. You are aware, I believe, that it was I who overheard Sybil Trewlawney's prophecy about you and the Dark Lord."

"Yeah," said Harry angrily. "And it was you who reported it to Voldemort. He killed my mother and father because of you!"

Snape went suddenly pale and swallowed hard. His eyes were full of deep, sorrowful regret. Harry found it odd to see but Snape was not likely to explain the expression.

"It was also I who alerted Dumbledore to the Dark Lord's plan," said Snape, his voice strangely croaky. "Too late, for all the damnable misery of it, but I tried to make amends. Dumbledore was a great man who saw past my mistake, as he has many others."

Snape was sounding like Hagrid in his reverence of Dumbledore. Harry was thrown totally off by the whole thing.

"As I was saying," Snape continued, "Dumbledore had an unshakable faith in you. I hope he was right, because I have blown my cover at last and risked my life - all our lives - on Dumbledore's belief in this plan. I have come to bring you something."

"What is it?" asked Harry, his voice shaky as he was overwhelmed with a sense of unworthiness over the professed reverence that Snape was saying Dumbledore had for him.

"I know of the Dark Lord's Horcruxes," said Snape. "And I know that three have been destroyed. I am bringing you the knowledge of how to destroy the others, and an instrument to help you do it."

Harry sat bolt upright. Hermione, on his right, gripped his arm in intense expectation.

"I'm listening, Snape," said Harry, trying to sound calm. Beneath his ribs, though, his heart was beating furiously. A weapon to destroy Horcruxes? It was the answer he'd been looking for.

"For a start, He knows," said Snape. "He knew his diary had been destroyed, and I told him about the ring also. The Dark Lord punished Lucius Malfoy as much for his careless disregard of the diary as he did his failure to capture the prophecy from the Ministry of Magic. Whether he knows about Gryffindor's armour I couldn't tell, but he knows now his Horcruxes are vulnerable and being hunted by the only person capable of destroying them. Yes, you Potter."

"Me? But how -"

"Because you have some of his power!" cried Snape impatiently. "You stabbed the diary, channelling the mix of his power and your own through the basilisk fang."

"But Dumbledore cracked the ring," said Harry. "I wasn't there."

"No, but Dumbledore used the Sword of Gryffindor," said Snape. "Dumbledore probably didn't tell you, but he is a great ancestor of yours. When you drew the sword from the Sorting Hat it switched allegiance to you, much as a wand would. It contains your power as well as that of ancient Gryffindor."

"Wow, Harry!" said Ron. "You're Gryffindor's Great-Great times a hundred Grandson! No wonder you're so powerful."

"As touching as this is," said Snape. "It misses the point."

"What? That Gryffindor's Sword can destroy Horcruxes?" yelled Harry. "That's surely the point? The Sword is just upstairs. I can get it now."

"But it can only do so much," said Snape. "You need something else, something far more ranging. Something like this."

Snape withdrew a long thin box from his cloak and placed it on the desk in front of him. Harry eyed it cautiously.

"What's in there?" he asked.

"What is in there is the only artefact of any real power that the Dark Lord wasn't able to utilise," said Snape. "Ironic, really, as it's been in plain sight for years and years."

Snape reached down and flicked open the box. Inside, as Harry expected, was a wand, sitting on a dusty, faded purpled cushion that had been squashed inside.

"I've seen that before," said Ron, peering closely. "Where have I seen that, Harry?"

"It was on display in Ollivander's," said Harry, remembering. "I saw it when I got my first wand. But what's it doing here?"

"It's here being passed to you," said Snape. "Hopefully to be kept safe from the Dark Lord, to be used to destroy his Horcruxes if Gryffindor's Sword proves inadequate."

Harry leaned forward to take it but Snape slapped his hand away. He was looking, oddly, in Hermione's direction.

"I had thought this was for you, Potter," said Snape. "But recent developments have changed my mind."

"What developments?" asked Harry.

"Dumbledore believed that all these implements that can destroy Horcruxes came through you, contained traces of your power, mixed with the Dark Lord's of course. But ever since your new - er - _connection_ I feel this can be amplified further. That your power, somehow, now also resides in another. And this is no ordinary other. I feel this wand would be infinitely more powerful not in your hands, Potter, but in the hands of Rowena Ravenclaw's arguably most gifted living descendent."

Snape pushed the wand-box towards Hermione, who's eyebrows had shot up so fast at this news they were now lost in the fringe of her bushy hair.

"Me?" Hermione whispered. "I'm not related to Rowena Ravenclaw, am I?"

"I understand the Sorting Hat considered you for Ravenclaw, did it not?" asked Snape.

"Well, it sort of said I'd do well there," Hermione replied. "But I asked to be put in Gryffindor as I'd heard it was the best."

Harry gawped at her. Had she really had the same experience during the Sorting as he had all those years ago? She'd never said, and Harry had never thought to ask, or to share the Sorting Hat's debate about himself with her. He swelled with emotion as he looked at her. They had been drawn together by destiny and he just wanted to hold her and bask in it.

"The Hat always considers personal preference," said Snape. "Though, perhaps, you should have reconsidered your choice."

"Best decision I ever made," said Hermione, squeezing Harry's arm. "But how did you get this wand?"

"The Dark Lord wanted it, for other reasons," said Snape. "He is concerned at the way his wand is seemingly matched by Potter's and he is looking for ways around the problem. He wanted to kidnap Ollivander and take all his wands to find one which would beat Potter's. I went with the party to carry out the job and Ollivander told me about this wand. I couldn't allow the Dark Lord to take possession of something so powerful, so I duelled the Death Eaters and took the wand. Then fled here."

"For me to have the wand?" asked Harry. It seemed too wild to believe.

"No, not for you," said Snape simply, sadly. "Expecto Patronum!"

A silver doe danced elegantly from the tip of Snape's wand, gambolled gracefully about the room for a minute or so before dissipating.

"My...my mother's Patronus was a doe," said Harry. He looked at Snape; he was amazed, shocked even, to see tears in his usually lifeless eyes.

"Yes," said Snape sadly.

Harry wanted to say something, to rile against the affection Snape was showing to his mother's memory, but Hermione's close touch and breathing stopped him. He saw Snape plainly for the first time; he was a man after all, maybe not a good man, but a man nonetheless. And he'd clearly been in love with Harry's mother. Was this why he was helping them now? He looked deep into those black, watery eyes.

"Thank you, Snape. From my mother, and from us."

Snape almost choked as a clear sob threatened to escape him. He forced himself to look at the wand, at the walls, anywhere but Harry. Secretly, Harry was glad; he had always loathed Snape but he found he couldn't hate him now. If anything, there was a growing sense of respect blooming deep inside. Ron broke this weird train of mood.

"Take the wand, Hermione," he said.

Hermione reached forward and lifted the wand from its case. The torches around the dungeon burned a little brighter for a few seconds, then returned to normal.

"I can feel its power," said Hermione. "It's coursing through my arm! Harry, we can do it! We really can! I believe it now!"

Harry turned to her. She was glowing, silvery and shining in the light of the torches. Harry saw his own skin, oddly golden in the reflection of her eyes. He kissed her deeply and felt their power, their very souls, edging a little closer. He smiled inwardly to himself as he re-imagined a quote from his past - the enemies of _these_ heirs would certainly need to beware!


	18. The Common Room Fire

Harry Potter never considered himself as 'lucky'. Cursed, definitely. Plagued and jinxed, also accurate. But never lucky. As he stared at the scene before him, however, he had to conclude that this unfamiliar, unaccustomed state actually applied to him for once. They knew where one of the Horcruxes was, despite having still only a vague idea of how to retrieve it, and now they had not one, but _two,_ methods of disposing of it. Two more, in fact, than they had had that very morning. _Yes_ , Harry thought, _I am very lucky_. Though, he happily admitted, the best stroke of his luck had absolutely nothing to do with Horcruxes.

Harry was lounging on the couch of the Gryffindor Common Room. Actually _lounging,_ reflecting his relaxed state. He could have laughed at himself for it, all things considered. Ron was sat on the comfy chair next to the fire, looking in awe at the Sword of Gryffindor in his hands, twirling it and admiring the way the firelight glinted off its smooth, sharp blade. Ron had already called shotgun on slicing off Nagini's head with the sword when the time came, and Harry was happy to concede to him.

But Harry had no eyes for Ron. He was staring at Hermione, not watching, staring. He knew that he was, but he couldn't seem to stop himself. She was stretched out in front of the fire, angled away from him, her legs crooked up behind her from the knees and her ankles dancing with each other in mid-air. She was closely examining the Wand of Ravenclaw in her hands, its little velvet cushion propped under one elbow, while the other held open a large book and she was flickering her eyes between its pages and the wand. Her eyes darted back and fore, her brows knitted in concentration as Hermione studied.

Harry found that he loved watching her in her element. A book, a problem, a task. So quintessentially Hermione. He absently chided himself that he'd missed six years of just enjoying this adorable, meaningless little display. Her besocked feet played idly with each other, occasionally kicking back and knocking against his knees. He reached out and grabbed them, slowly massaging one then the other. Hermione smiled without looking up.

"That's nice," she purred.

"What's that you're reading?" Harry asked as he continued to knead Hermione's toes.

She turned her head and said, sultrily, "Why don't you slide down here and join me?"

Harry didn't need asking twice.

He, as instructed, slid off the couch and stretched out at Hermione's side. She looked so lovely in the firelight that he found it completely impossible _not_ to slip his left arm over her back and come to rest under her arm. It would have been all kinds of wrong if he hadn't. She placed her hand over his as it slipped under her, her fingertips tracing little circles over his skin, sending gooesbumps all over him. He looked at her adoringly, a little giddy and lost in her secret, knowing smile. She knew how much he liked that, and what it was doing to him.

"Urgh, cant you two get a room?" asked Ron from the chair nearby. He looked decidedly peaky at the sight of them.

"This is a room," said Hermione simply. She hadn't taken her eyes from Harry's, which he was glad for. She was becoming increasingly more comfortable at their public displays of affection, especially in front of Ron. Harry, for his part, wanted to display his affection for Hermione as often as possible and in front of as many people as he could. He wanted to show her off, but he knew she wasn't wholly comfortable with that yet, so he was happy to let her take the lead. They had their moments in private, anyway. Harry pushed _those_ thoughts away, it was hardly the time. But his ignoble mind was drifting to the dorm of the Head Students, vacant this year in view of the circumstances of the world. Hermione had first suggested the place for some personal liaisons; when _that_ side of her had reared its head Harry's stomach had done little flips, which quickly slid south.

"Seriously, some of us have just eaten," Ron continued. "And haven't we got work to do?"

Hermione's shocked look was only matched by Harry's own.

"What's this?" Hermione asked teasingly. "Ron Weasley asking to do work?"

"Who are you?" Harry asked in mock suspicion. "What sort of Polyjuiced villain has managed to sneak in here and what have you done with my oldest friend?"

Harry and Hermione laughed together. Harry loved it when they did that, a play between themselves. It wouldn't matter if Ron didn't share the mirth. This was his moment with his girlfriend.

"Merlin's beard, you two are disgusting," said Ron. "Positively sickening. I'm so glad you didn't get together in fifth year as you should have. Imagine putting up with _this_ since then. I don't think I'd have any body weight left from all the puking up."

"I could have handled that," said Harry, before adding wistfully, "I really wish we had, come to think of it."

Hermione turned back to him, a look so gentle in her eyes that Harry felt light-headed a moment.

"You do?"

Harry was so full of regret that he despised himself a moment. All that nonsense with Cho, all that unreasonable chest monster garbage with Ginny, when he could have been having this. Gentility and beauty and _peace_. He'd never known much peace in his life but here, right now, in front of the fire, with Hermione curled up alongside him, with Ron nauseating nearby, with a few girls swooning somewhere in the background, with _just_ Hermione, actually, as he found he was narrowing his awareness to just her, he felt content, and wonderfully peaceful. Voldemort and his Horcruxes might be in another world right at that moment, and Harry might not have a scar at all...

"Harry?"

Hermione snapped Harry back from his daydream. The flames of the fire were dancing in her eyes and she looked so unspeakably lovely that he couldn't help himself. He leant forward and pressed his lips to hers. She was soft and warm as always, and she didn't withdraw or tense as she often did when he kissed her in public. She seemed lost in the moment with him, their own personal world on the hearthrug in front of the fire of the Gryffindor Common Room.

"Oh for sodding Merlin's sake!" Ron protested. But the swooning girls 'awwed' somewhere in the background. Harry thought his and Hermione's kiss must have looked so tender it had affected the watching crowd in a mushy, romantic sort of way. Except for Ron, of course, but Harry thought he could deal with his mate's faux revulsion.

Harry and Hermione broke apart and she smiled at him. At that moment an intense, overwhelming idea occurred to Harry and he shivered. He could almost _feel_ himself fall a little deeper for Hermione in that moment. It was like a well of sweet, gorgeous emotion and for a second he wanted to let himself drown in it, in her. But a hook of reality kept him in check. Not just Voldemort-driven reality, either. There was the other reality Harry had been daring to think of just recently, a Hermione-driven reality. A future one, beyond Voldemort and his Horcruxes and his Death Eaters. A reality Harry had genuinely believed was starting to move away from his grasp. But now they had genuine cause for optimism and this possible, wondrous future was starting to come into sharper focus in Harry's mind.

It gave him all sorts of knots and flutterings when he thought about it. He couldn't talk about it to Ron, not in a million. His best mate he may be, but they'd never discussed girls much beyond the crass adolescent ramblings of teenage boys. The idea of _relationships_ had never even entered their vocabularies. Ron was still languishing in their vulgarities and any of the concepts now circling in Harry's mind would be about as imperceptible to Ron as his Jupiter-reaching broomstick.

And he wasn't about to bring it up with Hermione. Not yet, at least. He was fairly confident she'd be amenable to the ideas Harry was having, but their coupling was still so new, and the world and future such an uncertain place, that such notions were best kept to the back burner. But Harry couldn't help it. He didn't want to stockpile his hopes, his dreams, into some magically-modified corner of his mind, like some mental version of Mad-Eye Moody's travelling case. Not any more, not when they now had a genuine, realistic way forward in the war against Voldemort.

"Harry? Are you still with us?"

Harry still hadn't answered Hermione's query. He had drifted, somewhat dreamily, back into his thoughts after he'd kissed her. The taste was still on his lips and he felt enchanted by her, as though she had some special magic that simply rendered him inert. He didn't mind it either; in fact, he positively revelled in it. She brought him such peace, such immense _peace_ , both inner and outer that he would have just happily melted into her and forgot the world entirely. He was in danger of slipping out of the moment again.

"What is the matter with you?" asked Ron, genuinely concerned at his friend's state. "Have you done something to him, Hermione. He looks bewitched."

"I don't know," said Hermione smiling softly, a gentle swoon to her tone. Harry's heart swooped at the sound. "Maybe I have."

"Can't I just enjoy the moment with my girlfriend?" Harry asked, slightly cross as his happy mood was interrupted. Hermione blushed slightly at the mention of her role, which she always seemed a little stunned to hear vocalized, while the girls behind them made little squeaking noises. It sounded as if they'd moved closer to bask in the show, as if the emotion radiating from Harry and Hermione was a visceral, tangible thing they could enjoy, like the warmth from the fire. "We don't get the chance to have many at the moment, do we?"

"No, that's true," said Hermione. "But you still haven't answered my question."

"There was a question?" asked Harry. He'd drifted so far from the conversation in his daydream that he'd forgotten what they'd been talking about.

"You were saying you wished we had gotten together in fifth year," Hermione reminded him, pulling his loved up mind back to speed.

"Well, yeah, I do," said Harry. "Don't you?"

"No."

Harry's heart stopped for half a moment. He had found lately that his future visions, the ones he dared not share with anyone, had tracked back into his past, starting way back. He didn't want to think of a life without Hermione as part of him, the centre of his world, be it past, present or future. He wanted it to be perfect, as it felt now, as he was sure it would be in his imagined future, if the butterflies he felt every time he gave into the notion, tentatively indulging his fantasies, were anything to go by.

But now, she was saying it wasn't the same for her. Harry internally kicked a selfish, arrogant part of himself. For some reason, he'd formed the notion that Hermione had always fancied him. It was obvious, surely. He realised in this moment, how absurd that fantasy idea was. Hermione was amazing, incredible, and he had long since acclimatised to the idea that she was far too good for him. Way out of his league on so many levels. He clung to her now, perhaps a little too needy, but it was a reflex, involuntary. He loved having her as his own, and the idea that there was a time when she wasn't was like pulling a trapdoor from under his feet. He didn't want to fall into the dark, Hermione-less abyss beneath it, so he clung to her as if for dear life.

She must have felt the change in him, the rise of his anxiety. She smiled so warmly at him that he felt inclined to look away, as though he were being blessed by something he felt he hadn't earned. He held her gaze, and his own breath, until she finally spoke.

"What I meant to say," she began softly, brushing an errant hair behind his ear and lightly caressing his old lighting-shaped scar, making him tingle all over so powerfully that he might have become magnetic, "was that I wished we'd gotten together _sooner_ than fifth year _._ "

Harry's heart kicked back into overdrive at the words, now beating so forcefully that he wasn't sure he could hold himself upright. He held Hermione tighter still to steady himself.

"How much sooner?" he asked, a little breathily.

"I don't know," said Hermione, coyly. "Maybe _first_ year."

Ron spat somewhere nearby. Harry had completely forgotten he was there. In fact, he'd forgotten _anyone_ was there, that anyone existed anywhere else in the world. It was just him and Hermione, the dimensions of the world no bigger than the space they occupied together on the floor.

"First year?" Harry repeated. "You liked me _then?_ "

"Yep," Hermione replied bashfully. "I think I did. Pretty sure of that."

Now Harry was hit with a different kind of emotional anguish, an image of a world where _he_ wasn't the one loving _her._ Even worse, not loving her _back._ He was distraught at the idea, it pulled at his heart and he ached hard at the very concept. But it suddenly filled in a blank for Harry, a piece of emotional parchment he'd had his heart-shaped quill dangling over for sometime without the real courage needed to finally write the three words he was sure were itching to come out of there. He almost said them then.

"Why didn't you ever say anything?" Harry whispered hoarsely. An image of a lonely Hermione, pining for him while he ignored her affections had taken residence in his mind. And he couldn't shake it. He utterly hated himself in that instant.

"We've been over this," she said soothingly. Her hand snaked up to his neck and entangled in his hair. Her voice was a cure-all, her touch an elixir. "I didn't think you'd ever notice me. I don't hold it against you. We got there in the end, that's all that matters. And besides, you've got a lifetime to make it up to me."

She winked at him and Harry's insides started doing somersaults. Had she really just said what he thought she had? Was that what her sexy, minx-like wink had actually meant. Harry barely dared believe it.

"Look, I'll permit you one long, frigging snog in front of the fire if you just shut up with all this lovey-dovey putridness," said Ron. He looked genuinely queasy at Harry and Hermione's display, but they were frankly too lost in each other to care. "You'll be proposing to one another at this rate if you carry on."

Hermione looked meaningfully at Harry again, long and imploringly. Did she _want_ them to carry on, down the path Ron was uncouthly laying out for them? Was that what her look meant? Harry was on the verge of doing something...reckless. Hermione sensed it, decided it wasn't the moment, and took Ron up on his offer. In one movement, she threw Ravenclaw's wand back into its case, rolled over onto her side, scooped Harry up in her arms and began to kiss him with such gentle sensuality that Harry lost his mind momentarily. He recovered himself to realise what was happening, and returned the kiss as gracefully as he could, realising in the moment how much better at this Hermione was than he. The gathered 'awws' rang out again, as well as some 'whoops' from boys around the room. Harry and Hermione ignored them, this was their time and they were happily engaged in each other.

"That's enough," said Ron, somewhat hopefully. Harry and Hermione ignored him. Frankly, they may not have heard him at all. Ron sighed, resigned. "Oh well, maybe not. I think I'm going to be sick."

He may well have been, Harry wouldn't have known. He could have gone off and destroyed the remaining Horcruxes and even beheaded Voldemort himself for all Harry cared. For now there was just him and Hermione, their lips unparting, unrelenting. Everything else could just wait.


	19. The Dark Lord's Cave

At first, there was only blackness. A tight shroud enveloping the head, denying sight, grip ever increasing. Then the water rushed in, picking at lidded eyes, clogging ears and then, through no fault of its own, filling the cavity of a stupidly open mouth. Then the taste. Soapy, floral and completely in the wrong place.

Harry broke the surface of the water and spat out copiously. He sputtered a few moments, wiped desperately at his tongue, in a futile attempt to rid himself of the lingering flavour of lavender and peony that clung there, then cursed out loud. Whether it was anger at the mouthful of bubbly water, or frustration at failing the spell again, Harry couldn't tell, but either way his mood was going decidedly sour.

Hermione, sitting nearby, was far more encouraging. "You had it for a moment there, Harry. Keep going, I know you can master this."

"That makes one of us," Harry replied crossly. He was cross with himself. Cross not just for failing, but for failing _in front of Hermione_. Again. He hated letting her down, of disappointing her, especially when she was there to see it. And he knew he was. Despite what she was saying. He knew she just cared too much for him to be overly critical. The thought cheered him slightly.

"Its not a simple spell," said Hermione placatingly. "And you have to do it non-verbally. And underwater. Its a lot to hold in your mind at once and you're doing really well. Honestly, you are."

"How can you be so supportive when I'm obviously rubbish?" asked Harry, almost to himself, half in wonder.

"You are not rubbish, at anything," Hermione swooned. Harry's heart did a little foxtrot. He loved it when she used that voice. "Like I said, its a tricky spell. You'll get it eventually. Try to stay positive."

"I would say ' _why don't you come and try if you're so brilliant'_ , but you are, and I bet you'd do it first time."

Hermione blushed. "You're just adorable, aren't you?"

"Just trying to make up for lost time. After six years of not appreciating you to your face I'm trying to squeeze in as much as I can."

"Do you see me complaining?" Hermione said, somewhat sultrily. "In any case, I'm enjoying watching you all wet and slick over there. Its quite the view, let me tell you. Myrtle was right, this _is_ an indulgence."

"Oh gods, where is she?" asked Harry, suddenly aghast. "She's not here, is she?"

"Probably. Peeking out of a pipe somewhere I imagine," Hermione teased.

Harry was suddenly bashful about bobbing around in the water in just his swimming trunks.

"Remind me again why we are practising this in _here_?"

Harry gesticulated around. The Prefects bathroom. The gorgeous, siren-like mermaid winking down at him from her portrait on the far wall. Hardly good prep for the murky depths of an Inferi-infested cave pool.

"I thought it would be more pleasant than say, the icy waves of the Great Lake," said Hermione sardonically. "It is Winter, and we _are_ in Scotland. Not really the ideal place for a swim right now."

"And the bubbles? How do they fit in?"

Hermione laughed. "I just fancied taking a bath with you. You look so pretty in bubbles. I miss our baths at Grimmauld Place."

Harry shuddered, shivering even in the warmth of the water. Good shivering. A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. Memories cascaded, bubbles, warm water, Hermione, an empty house, then the rest...

The Bubble Head Charm practise session was driven from his mind.

Harry swam slowly over to Hermione, like a predator stalking its prey. Though this was one hunt different to all others. This prey was happy to be snared. She looked down at him from her position perched on the edge of the bath, her legs dangling in the water, kicking lightly against the ridge of bubbles. She was wearing a swimsuit, azure blue and clinging. Harry liked that. She was twisted slightly, one knee resting over the other. She looked remarkably like the mermaid likeness behind her only solid, real, alive. And, Harry thought with a jolt of pride, eminently more sexy. He might have found himself drooling at the sight. It wouldn't have surprised him.

Hermione seemed to understand the look in his eyes. It was a sort of fire, animal and base, and it drove her senseless. She'd never told him so, but Harry had learned to read that expression when it crossed her eyes. She glazed, as though her brilliant mind had leant control temporarily to her heart and her desire. And Harry recognised the look. It stirred his blood and his heart pounded lustily inside his chest.

He snatched out and grabbed her before she could set herself, and dragged her into the bubbles.

Hermione let out a girlish giggle but offered not one modicum of resistance. She slipped into the warm water, sliding down Harry's moist body and into his embrace. Then they were kissing, deep and unfettered. With no-one around to see or whistle or comment, Hermione became quite the animal equal of Harry, passionate, untamed, eager in her desire to consume him first. And it was getting stronger.

Ever since their declaration days previous that both had harboured feelings for each other long before they acknowledged them, they seemed at pains to make up for it. To each other, to themselves. They felt a similar pang, a twinge of guilt, of regret, that they hadn't found this in one another many years ago. The joys of being together that they had missed out on, all the memories they could have made. There was a sort of passionate desperation to not lose one more minute of their relationship, as if they could love away all the wasted time spent apart. Secretly, neither felt they could achieve it, but they were determined to try nonetheless.

But some moments would have to wait for a more private setting. Hermione came to her senses on that first. It was quite a feat, as Harry's trail of kisses along her neck were driving her to near insanity. But manage it she did, pulling away as his hands slid to her waist.

"Harry, come on, be good," she whispered huskily. Harry looked crestfallen. Hermione's heart screamed obscenities at her. Her loins ached with a momentary self-loathing. But she had to be firm.

Harry knew she was right. They were in danger of getting far too carried away. And Myrtle wouldn't be the only one moaning if they let things continue. Harry sighed in defeat and hugged Hermione into his chest. He held her hips just the same, but unhooked his thumb from her waistband. His hands retreated up her back, but not before giving her bum a quick squeeze on the way.

"Oi, cheeky," said Hermione, playfully swatting at him.

"I had to get _something_ ," Harry moaned. He couldn't help it. He was roused.

"I didn't say we had to stop entirely," said Hermione.

Harry started, stirred again in his heart. Blood swept everywhere at once. Did she really say that? And in _that voice_? He wished she hadn't used it, and was floored that she did, in equal measure.

"You didn't? But I-"

"I just meant we have to be mindful," said Hermione. Her fingers were absently tracing a path along Harry's collarbone, the sensation tickling over his skin. "Nothing where any clothes come off, okay?"

"I can _definitely_ live with that!"

Somewhere, in the recesses of Harry's mind, a currently dormant place where logic and reason lived, he wondered if they would ever get this charm done. He vaguely wondered if Voldemort was active, on the move, working against him, while he was taking a bubble bath with the love of his life. And he really wished he could care more. He should, he knew that. But it was so hard. Voldemort was so evil, so dark, so negative; Hermione not only his equal, but his superior in all things positive and wonderful. It was almost impossible to tear himself away from her. It was selfish, but Harry felt he'd earned just a little bit of selfishness over the years. But he knew he had to relent soon. He'd give himself five more minutes with Hermione...or maybe five hours.

He'd let her decide.

* * *

By the end of the week, Harry had mastered the Bubble Head Charm, both in and out of water. Hermione had said he would, and he wondered that he'd ever doubted her. How often was she wrong, after all. It was important to be able to cast it underwater so that, in the event of crippling panic or injury or contrary magic, he could re-establish the spell. It would be a right balls up if, after all the effort, he managed to recover the Horcrux, evade the Inferi, only to drown in the process.

It would be some anti-climax.

Hermione, naturally, had already perfected the fire cage enchantment she'd invented. She tried to explain to Harry and Ron how it really wasn't that difficult, and that it had only taken a little longer than she'd hoped because she wanted the fire to not only protect Harry from the Inferi, but to keep him warm in the cold water. Their regular sessions in the Prefects bath had brought that idea to her. Ron zoned out at this point. Apparently, the idea of Harry and Hermione alone in a bath together was beyond his tolerance level. Even if it was in the pursuit of their Horcrux hunt. Some images could simply not be _unseen_.

So now they had no more obstacles. Harry and Hermione were to be found that Sunday night sat in the Headmistress's office, talking to the portrait of Dumbledore on the wall. Harry was hoping for any last minute titbits of advice his old mentor could give him.

"You will need a knife, Harry," the portrait of Dumbledore said. "The cave requires a blood sacrifice, remember."

Hermione squeaked to Harry's right and clung to his arm. She was very pale. After all the planning, all the work, she seemed to baulk now the moment for action had come. Harry needed her, though. Selfish as he had become, she had to be there with him. He doubted he could do it without her. He squeezed her arm and gave her an encouraging smile. "It's okay. Its just a pin prick. It wont even leave a scar. I have enough of those."

Hermione smiled weakly, but looked decidedly sick.

"Beyond that I can offer little more advice, Harry," Dumbledore continued. "This is a hugely ambitious plan. Not to mention creative."

"Or dangerous," said Professor McGonagall. She was observing proceedings from behind her desk. She looked thoroughly unenthused by the plan. "Can we not send someone else? Someone less important. Someone more...though I loathe myself to say it... _expendable_?"

Harry gawked at her, almost unable to believe the words. "I won't have anyone else take risks for me. Besides, it has to be me. I will know the Horcrux is nearby."

"How so?"

"I can sort of sense them. Its like a low hum they emit. Its sort of hard to explain. Maybe its the bit of Voldemort in me, like Parseltongue."

Hermione actually gasped out loud. A bit of Voldemort _inside_ Harry? The thought seemed to chill her. She hugged him suddenly, as if trying to squeeze the Dark Lord out of him, like purging puss from a wound. Harry hugged her back. He didn't like the notion either, but there it was, plain and simple. He drew strength from her embrace. He wasn't evil. He wasn't Voldemort. Evil people didn't love. And Harry loved Hermione so much. His heart swelled at the thought of it, thinking all things Hermione Granger all at once. And what a beautiful thought it was.

He didn't know it, but some place far away, a Dark Lord was writhing in pure, nerve-searing agony...he'd picked the wrong moment to try and invade the mind of his nemesis. A potent power he knew nothing of had driven him back, and was now torturing him more than the most acute Cruciatus Curse ever cast. And Harry Potter knew nothing about it.

* * *

Wind whistled painfully in their ears, icy sea spray pricked at their cheeks and the mouth of a vast cave loomed ominous before them. It was eternal night in its shadow. Fear resided in this place, darkness of the worst kind its bedfellow. For the three teens facing it, the path forward was the only way, and all of them trembled before the voyage.

Harry stepped forward first, of course he did. Courage faltered but never failed in the Boy Who Lived. He drew an inordinate amount of strength from the immense pool of it welling inside his beautiful girl beside him, hand clasped in his, her expression as fiercely intent as his own. Resigned to their fate, sure in the knowledge of the danger ahead, but standing at his side in the face of all of it.

Partners, equals. Partnership, not defence. It had been predicted in the runes. For some reason, Harry remembered it now. And he loved her even more. It was all he needed to move ahead.

Bringing up the rear was Ron. Brave and steadfast, determined to show his worth. If Hermione could be brave, so could he. He'd never live it down if he shied away. The Sword of Gryffindor was tucked into his belt. He wore it like a badge of office. Vindication of his presence. Making up for earlier mistakes when he let his friends face this enemy alone.

And he watched them now, on the cusp of tackling You Know Who again.

He saw a power between them that took him back a bit. The way that they looked at each other, so fierce, so committed, so loyal to each other. So _in love._ It was humbling to look at and Ron felt he should look away, as though it were indecent. But he couldn't, and he wouldn't have been able to say why. It was just so right, so just, a beacon of good and hope in a world of darkness that was about to get just that little bit more real. Ron found himself drawing strength from it, from _them,_ as though they were giving off a pulse of energy that penetrated and infused him.

He'd never felt happier for his two friends just then. Having found each other in this way. He castigated himself for every saucy comment, every fake retch of revulsion, for ever having placed himself as a barrier between them. If this was what love was, what they had, they deserved to be together as surely as the sun and moon chased one another for dominance of the sky. And he envied them a bit. Actually, a lot. He made two resolutions, stood there on the rock, out in the sea, basking in the warmth of Harry and Hermione's harmony. Even as they faced the lurking danger.

He'd never criticise them again. They could kiss, they could cuddle, they could bloody well go all the way in front of him. Well, maybe not _that_ _far_. And he'd let them and not be childish about it again.

That, and he would definitely go and speak to Luna.

The three of them moved off. Memories flooded back to Harry now. To that night, that long-distant nightmare he'd tried to forget. But he was back there now, his minds' eye guiding him in the echo of Dumbledore's fateful footsteps. He retraced their path, cautiously picking his way over rutted ground made slick by the spray and seaweed. The song of the wall called to him, the magic perverted into it by Voldemort. Harry heard it. It was luring him in. He went willingly.

"This is it," he said suddenly. His hand smoothed a patch of wall. Dumbledore's blood had long washed away but its magic was still there. Harry's heart thumped hard as he felt it. He knew it, as surely as he knew Hermione's trembling vice grip in his other hand. He turned to her. She was white with fear. Fear for him, for he was going into danger and she hoped she'd done enough to protect him. He wasn't sure, but he knew no-one could have done more.

He hugged her tight. "It's all right. I'll be okay."

She hugged him back, but she didn't cry or sob. Harry needed that. It steeled him. Hermione was clutching him so hard it was as if she was trying to push her own courage reserves into him if she just willed it enough.

"Ron. The Sword."

Ron understood. He draw Gryffindor's blade and Harry opened his palm. Hermione angled the blade. It need only be a shallow cut.

"Be _careful_ , Ron," Hermione said. It was an order, a command. Ron dared not disobey.

"Ready, Harry?"

Harry took a steadying breath. "Do it."

Ron sliced the blade quickly. It stung white-hot against Harry's skin. Then warm blood seeped freely from it.

Harry didn't waste time.

He smeared his own life-force against the rough granite of the wall. Fragments of grit cut into his open wound. Harry clenched his jaw in a grimace, but didn't stop. For a moment it seemed he was wrong. Nothing happened. The wall stayed solid. But just at that thought, the stone melted away and the cave loomed beyond like a superior fighter eager for another round.

And then they were inside. The water was black, still as the night and tauntingly calm. Harry's heart shifted painfully into his throat. His skin was prickly and his palms irritated with sweat, despite the cold, dead air.

There was no sound.

Hermione came up beside him and crooked her arm in his. "Is that where -?"

She pointed out across the lake to the island of crystal at its heart. A shadow of memory, like a projection of an old movie, shot from Harry's mind towards the place. Dumbledore kneeling, crying. Harry force-feeding him the potion. The Inferi, the fire...

Harry snapped out of his dark reverie.

"What now?" asked Ron.

"Whatever you do, don't disturb the water," Harry whispered. "Ron, you remember the first spell you learned, right?"

Ron almost grinned. "How can I forget? Twelve foot trolls and making a new friend tends to stay with you."

Hermione smiled affectionately as she too remembered. Harry loved the look on her face. He tried to keep it with him, to keep his courage up

"Right then, I need you to cast it again. On me."

"Why?" Ron replied.

"I need you to float me over the lake," Harry explained. "Then I can cast my Bubble Head Charm, Hermione can do her little fire cage thing...then you two have to get the hell out of here."

Hermione rounded on him. He knew she would. This was why he'd gently omitted this part of the plan from her.

"What are you talking about?" she said. She was angry, and afraid. Harry didn't like hearing either in her voice. But there was no time for democracy here.

"Hermione, listen to me. You cant go any further with me on this. I have to do this bit alone. You'd done absolutely everything for me to this point, and unswervingly brilliantly as always. But this part I have to do. By myself. You know the deal."

"But why do we have to leave?" she asked. Her voice was so small, so fragile, Harry just wanted to gather her up and run away with her from this place. But he couldn't.

"Hermione, there may be a thousand Inferi under that water, and I don't want you near a single one of them," said Harry softly. "I'm doing this for you, just you. And you alone. And maybe Ron, a bit."

Harry winked at his best friend, who meekly tried to share the joke. But he was so pale that he looked sick. His skin was so pasty that with his head so vividly red he might had looked like a matchstick fully naked. What an odd thought to have at such a time.

Hermione, for once, was lost for words. Harry took advantage and ploughed on.

"You've done the ground work. Now I'm going to go down there and find poor old Inferi-Regulus and rip the Horcrux off him. I don't want to come back up and find a world where something has happened to you. So, do as I ask - leave the cave with Ron and be prepared to destroy the Horcrux when I come out. You have Ravenclaw's wand, don't you?"

Hermione nodded, her eyes full of terrified tears. Harry leaned in and kissed her eyes, as though he could kiss her worry away.

"I'll look after her," said Ron assuredly as he stepped closer. Harry nodded his thanks. "Ready, Hermione?"

She nodded too. Ron raised his wand. " _Wingardium Leviosa!"_

A swish, a flick, and Harry rose into the air. He took out his own wand as he slowly floated over the black water. Seconds later his head was engulfed by a translucent globe of energy. His own pocket of air in a lifeless sea. He could just about see Hermione across the dark expanse. Her wand was out, but he couldn't hear her incantation.

But he saw the effects.

Bars of bluebell-blue fire slammed down around him, like his own personal prison. He tentatively reached out and touched them. They were unexpectedly cool, but they were giving off a heat which fed him like a hearty meal. He motioned with his hands to Ron, the instruction clear.

_Lower me in_. Ron complied.

Harry felt the water as it seeped into his trainers. Then his socks and jeans. He felt heavy, leaden but surprisingly still warm. _Why am I surprised_ , he thought. _This is Hermione's magic, of course it works. She's protecting me even down here_. He slowly tried to tread water and found that he could move. And the cage went with him. It was all working.

But it was too still. Harry was being lulled into a false state.

He moved slowly through the water, squinting hard against the shapes in the dark, the amorphous masses that were lurking all around, yet to take form. He knew that when they did, they would be in the guise of foes. But still he moved, following that vague sense he had when he was near a Horcrux. He was moving in the right direction. How he knew, he couldn't say. He he was sure of it all the same.

He didn't see the first Inferi for a good five minutes. But see them he did.

A sickly white hand swiped at him from the dark and he jumped back, the surprise spearing him with a burst of terror. He nearly lost his focus. The Bubble Head around him flickered. He cast it again and took a steadying breath. Then he looked around and had to stifle a scream.

An Inferi was looking at him.

Harry was sure he might faint from how fast his heart was racing. The thrill of fear scythed along his flesh, causing him to flutter with it. The Inferi was looking deep at him, robotic, lifeless, casually concerning itself with this new entity in its midst. Its eyes struck Harry. Black, lifeless eyes, like a dolls eyes. Unseeing, sense coming from vague feeling alone. Harry was unconquerably terrified of it.

He pushed away from it, and into another behind. Harry turned to find another lifeless face, a doppleganger of death with the swollen, engorged features of the watery dead. He tried to scream as it struck a hand towards him, but it caught in his chest. His heart pounded hard, drumming in his ears. The Inferi reeled back as its hand touched the fire cage. And a reminder occurred to Harry.

_Hermione's with me, her cage is protecting me. She's waiting for me up there. I wont let her down._

Courage renewed. Harry began to swim, his senses keen, trained on the Horcrux. But there were more Inferi. Lots more. They surged toward him, mindless of his protection. And they were swatted aside by the bluebell flames. Each one. They screeched, a terrible, blood-curdling cry that cut Harry's ears. He had to get out of here. And _now._ Where was this damned Horcrux.

The thought seemed to yield the answer itself.

A glint of gold, dull in the depths, but there all the same. Harry knew it as surely as a snitch. He struck down, deeper into the darkness. The Inferi were all behind him, clawing at the fire cage with burnt hands, unlearning, mechanical. No longer a threat. Then the glint of gold was a beacon ahead of him and the Inferi wearing it...was just another lifeless monster.

Harry, for some reason, had expected something else. Like an Inferi-king or something. But it wasn't. It was just another one of them, as faceless and impersonal as the next. Robbed of their life, their character, by the Dark Evil of Voldemort. Harry reached the body that had once been Regulus Black. It swiped at him, as the others did; it burnt up against the cage, as the others did. Harry felt a tinge of remorse for the once-was brother of his Godfather. Reduced to this.

He would do this one thing for him.

Harry started forward. The Inferi groped like a mindless zombie, then disintegrated against Hermione's amazing cage. _My_ amazing Hermione's cage, Harry thought, with a surge of pride so strong he felt light headed. The body burnt, watery ashes floated away, then there was nothing left of it. And Harry clutched the Horcrux in his hand.

He kicked hard against the water, and still the Inferi couldn't touch him, still they pursued. The surface loomed, it seemed far away, but the dim light grew brighter and brighter until Harry crashed through the surface. Luckily, he'd come right up against the bank near the entrance. Hermione and Ron were gone, but there were no Inferi. They'd all been chasing Harry, they were _still_ chasing him. But his lover and his best friend were safe. He had to get to them.

Harry raced forward but turned to look back after a moment. The Inferi were trying to climb out of the water, but many had lost hands to Hermione's cage and couldn't get purchase against the bank. But others were climbing over them ready to pursue Harry. He was oddly fixated on the sight.

_"Harry!"_

Hermione. Her scream was such a mix of relief and happiness and fear and love that Harry was startled by its intensity. He didn't need telling twice. He raced away from the Inferi, leaping over clusters of rock and scree beneath his feet. It felt odd running in a cage of fire.

Hermione met him halfway, undid the fire charm and embraced him deeply. But only for a moment.

"Guys, there'll be time for this at Hogwarts. We need to leave, _now!"_

Ron was firm, desperate, and right. He led the way and Hermione dragged Harry along behind her. They ran out of the cave. Hermione turned and cast a _Reducto_ at the roof, which caved down behind them. Seconds later they were on the ridge again. They looked at each other, counted to three, then Disapparated back to Hogwarts.


	20. Three Little Words

"Well...what do we do with it?"

It was Ron who'd voiced the obvious, unasked question first. But all three of them had been thinking it.

They were sat in the living room of Grimmauld Place. Hogwarts, they'd decided, was too vulnerable a place to potentially unleash another fragment of Voldemort's soul, especially with all the students around. So they had retreated to the confines of Harry's house as they pondered just what to do next.

The Horcrux was sat in the middle of the table. And they were all staring at it.

"It doesn't _seem_ that dangerous," Ron went on. "I'd have expected more."

"Don't be deceived, Ron," said Hermione, darkly. "Tom Riddle's diary seemed harmless, until it possessed your sister and started attacking students."

"Don't remind me," said Ron, shuddering at the memory. "How did you know how to destroy the Gryffindor Horcrux?"

"There was an echo of Gryffindor in it," said Hermione. "That or Harry's family connection allowed Godric to speak to him and advise him. Either way, it told Harry how to destroy the Horcrux. We don't have that luxury with this one."

"I can't see the Sword being much use," said Harry. "We can't exactly _stab_ a metal locket, can we?"

"No," Hermione agreed. "We have to draw the evil out somehow."

"That sounds fun," said Ron, gloomily.

"I don't want to do it either, Ron," said Hermione, slightly hurt. "But that's what had to happen with the others."

"Hermione's right," said Harry, smoothing her hands where they were massaging his shoulders. She hadn't left him alone since they'd escaped the cave, intensely convinced that his little swim with the dead had left him so traumatised he needed her constant care and attention. Harry was enjoying her ministrations so much he saw no reason to put her right on the matter. That apart from being a little scared of the Inferi, the whole thing had gone like clockwork and hadn't been so bad at all. This was definitely a reward worth the risk, Horcrux or not.

"The other Horcruxes had to be sort of, _activated,_ didn't they?" Harry continued. "Dumbledore wore the ring, Ginny wrote in the diary, I got into the armour. Maybe I have to wear the locket?"

Hermione stopped her kneading a moment. "Don't even think about it, Harry. Dumbledore activated an unstoppable curse by wearing the ring. The locket could do the same to you."

"Or strangle you to death," added Ron. "I'm with Hermione on this one. It's too dangerous."

Harry opened his mouth to argue, but conceded. Hermione was overly concerned for him, it was her job as his girlfriend, but for Ron to agree it was a marker of the seriousness of his suggestion. Harry knew they were right, but it didn't quell his frustration.

"If we can't wear it, then can we open it?" he asked. "It must have internal compartments like the other one."

"Yes, but what can we expect to come out of them?" said Hermione. "I don't know, Harry..."

"We can't just leave it!" said Harry hotly. "It has to be destroyed. Snape gave us the Sword and Ravenclaw's wand. There has to be a way to use them against it."

"Maybe we should show it to Snape, ask his advice."

If Harry hadn't heard the words himself, spoken in his oldest friend's voice, he would never have believed Ron to have said them. But there it was, and their echo hung oddly in the air.

"That's a great idea, Ron!" said Hermione with zealous enthusiasm. "Snape will know about it. He knows his Dark Arts stuff."

Harry shifted uncomfortably. Not at the idea of asking Snape for help, it actually made a lot of sense. It was more the tone of Hermione's voice as she praised Ron. He felt irrationally jealous at the sound. The sensation settled ill on him. He was being paranoid, he knew, but he had become so used to hearing Hermione use that tone only for him that he had developed a possessive streak for it. He tensed and Hermione, unaware of the conflict raging in Harry's mind as she absently rubbed his neck, must have thought the idea of Snape had riled Harry.

"Don't you agree, Harry?" she asked gently. "I know Snape's not your favourite person, but he is more of an authority on this sort of stuff than us."

"Yeah, he is," said Harry. He knew his bitter tone would be unchallenged if aimed at Snape, when it was in fact channelled in a very different direction. "We can go and see him tomorrow. See if being an evil prick for his entire life might actually be useful for once."

"Shouldn't we go now?"

"Haven't we had enough excitement for one day?" asked Harry. "A bit of rest might do us good."

"Thank Merlin!" said Ron, slapping his palms onto the table. "Thanks for suggesting that, mate. I was hoping someone would. But I didn't want it to be me."

"Of course you're tired, you must be exhausted!" said Hermione shrilly, gripping Harry's shoulders tightly. It was as if missing Harry's mental and physical fatigue had been an unforgivable oversight on her part. "Sorry to be blunt, Ron, but Harry needs his rest. I have to get him to bed."

"That's my cue to leave!" said Ron, jumping up with a smirk. Harry was cheered by Hermione's unapologetic dismissal of Ron. "You kids have fun. Come to me in the morning and we can head up to Hogwarts together."

Hermione led Ron from the room and down the hall. Harry could hear a muffled goodbye before the front door clicked closed again. Hermione returned moments later and sat down opposite Harry.

"So, what was _that_ all about?" she asked in a brisk, business-like manner.

"I don't follow."

"Your mood," said Hermione. "It was acidic. It changed the air of the place in a second. And I know it wasn't about Snape. Even Ron saw it."

"Oh, shared a nice little look with him, did you?" Harry couldn't hide the anger in his voice.

Hermione looked at him oddly, almost smirking. The look riled him a moment. "Harry - are you _jealous?_ Of _Ron?_ "

Harry looked away from her. He didn't want a row. Hermione reached out across the table, beckoning his hands to hers. He begrudgingly gave in, and knew exactly why as soon as he felt her beautifully soft skin rub against his own.

"Harry - please look at me."

He obeyed again. She was looking at him differently now. Quite gently, almost astonished by the conversation.

"Why would you be jealous of Ron? What happened?"

Harry knew it was pointless to be evasive. "I didn't like how you spoke to him."

Hermione was confused. "How did I speak to him? I didn't say anything to make you jealous, did I?"

"It wasn't that," said Harry. "Its dumb, I know, I just didn't like how you praised him. He's your ex, remember? I know I can't expect you to be positive to just me, its really stupid. I just didn't like it."

Hermione looked tenderly at him. She seemed strangely young and innocent in her expression. Harry found himself captivated by it.

"What?"

"Nothing," Hermione smiled. "Its just that...I never imagined you'd ever want to go out with me. Well, I _imagined it,_ lots and often, but I suppose I never really thought what it'd be like if it actually happened. To see you jealous over me...its not something I ever thought I would see. It's just suddenly made it feel a bit more... _real_. And I'm just thinking how much better it is than all my fantasies. It's like we've been going out and I haven't really let it settle on me. I'm your _girlfriend,_ Harry."

The concept seemed to have occurred to Hermione as if anew. She was glowing with the grin it diffused over her entire body. Harry felt his own negativity drain away.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be such a dick about it. I get envious when you just _talk_ to other people, normally I mean. To see you showing affection...to a rival, too...it just irritated me. I'm sorry."

Hermione got up and moved around the table. Harry pulled out a chair for her, but she ignored it and instead sat right on his lap, wrapping her arms around his neck as she did so.

"Harry, listen to me," she said softly, her fingertips lightly playing with his shirt collar. "Ron is _not_ a rival to you, my ex or not. You have no rivals. If you want me, I'm yours, forever and always. I fell in love with you when I was eleven. All you've ever done since is made me love you more. But I wont deny that a teeny bit of me likes seeing you jealous because of me. It shows that you might feel for me a fraction of what I feel for you."

"Hermione, I feel more than a fraction of whatever you feel," said Harry. He took a steadying breath, hoping it would help still his banging heart. "I love you."

Hermione's eyes widened and she drew breath sharply. Harry could feel her racing heartbeat in the pulse at her wrist, where her skin was pressed against his neck. She looked surprised, elated and the happiness in her eyes was blinding. Harry felt unworthy to have put that light there, but humbly thankful that he had.

"I - I never thought you'd say it first!" she whispered lightly. "Oh, Harry...you do? Tell me again."

"I love you," he repeated, somewhat coyly. He felt lucky to be able to say the words. More accurately, to be able to say them to _her._ This wonderful, heavenly girl in his arms. Part of him still felt unworthy of the words, but he wasn't going to decry his stroke of good fortune.

Hermione looked closely at him, her eyes studying his visage hungrily, devoutly. Harry had never felt more adored in his life. He almost shied away from it, such was the force of Hermione's affection. But he couldn't, as at that moment she locked her lips on his, kissing him senseless.

"I love you, too," she said, smiling warmly as they broke apart, needing air. "I always have, Harry. I always will."

Harry lost his mind for a moment. He let the words wash over him, the emotion drown him. He felt moisture in his eyes and why dry them? He'd shed tears for all the wrong reasons in his life, when dark emotion had broken him, why not allow them now for the best moment of his life?

He let a sob escape him and Hermione drew him close. She knew how much this must mean to him, to have elicited such a response. And it was all of her doing, and she was covetous of it. The power to reduce Harry Potter to tears of pure, unbridled joy was not to be scoffed at, or overestimated, or shared. She held him tightly, tenderly, threading her fingers rhythmically through his hair and simply enjoyed him _enjoying_ her. Enjoying their relationship, revelling in being together. She was surprised by Harry's outpouring of emotion, astounded that it was due to her, for her declaration of the intense, dear love she felt for him. But it was sweet and lovely and Hermione wanted to speak, to let Harry know that she felt _exactly_ the same, that this was the best moment of her life and that he was the best thing to have ever happened to her.

But words were beyond them both. Slowly, Hermione stood up and took Harry's hand and guided it around her shoulders as she slipped her own arm around his waist. She led him from the living room and up the stairs to their bedroom. She _had_ promised to take him to bed after all. The insane flutterings that unerringly accompanied this part of the night stirred in Hermione's stomach. Every time. She wondered if they would ever not be there, if this would ever become routine and mundane.

She vowed not to let that happen.

She quickly undressed and slid between the sheets so she could watch Harry. It was such a treat to be able to. He smiled at her as he began to undress himself. He was still consumed with emotion, but there was that _something else_ creeping into his eyes, too. Hermione drank it in like an addiction. Her heart twittered around in joyous anticipation and she squeezed her legs together as they fidgeted beneath the covers. Harry was drawing this out, she could tell. He knew it drove her wild and he loved the game.

But he loved _her,_ too. And now she knew that. She could barely believe it. It was something she was fairly sure about before, but to hear Harry say the words...and to say them first, under no pressure to return a sentiment she might have confessed before him. It made her dizzy to think about it. The sensation flooded her and she couldn't help but grin wildly and bob about like a half-wild cat on the mattress.

She reached down and slipped gracefully out of her knickers.

She wouldn't be needing them tonight.


	21. Into The Locket

Severus Snape and Minerva McGonagall peered intently at the golden locket on the desk before them, scanning it, feeling its unmistakably dark aura. Snape would occasionally walk around the table, as though a different angle may give him a better understanding of the object in front of him. McGonagall had twice picked the locket up, examining every nuance of it. It was largely unremarkable to look at.

But it happened to contain a fragment of the tainted soul of one of the most evil men alive.

"You were right not to put this on, Potter," said Snape. "If you had, you would likely be dead already."

Hermione, sitting unfathomably close to Harry, squeaked in horror and gripped his arm tightly. Ron gave him a look which said, quite plainly. _'I told you so_ '

Harry shifted a little at Snape's words, so blunt and direct. So knowingly correct. And to think, he'd thought to try the locket on when Ron and Hermione weren't looking, just to see what would have happened. That was a close miss.

"Then it does have to be opened, to face what's inside?"

"That would be the logical conclusion," said Snape. "The Horcrux works in three parts, as does the process for creating one. There will be an obvious use, which is generally the first line of defence. Wearing the jewellery, writing in the diary, etcetera. Then there will be the piece of the Dark Lord you must face directly. Finally, there is the embodiment of the victim used to make the Horcrux. They tie into The Act, The Incantation, and The Consumption. The stages of Horcrux creation."

"The Consumption?" Harry asked dubiously, not sure if he really wanted to hear this explanation.

"Yes, Potter, the Consumption," said Snape, impatiently, as though this was something as common as a Boggart and their discussion just another classroom joust. "The Dark Lord needed to partake of the flesh of his victims to complete the Horcrux creation process. It is ancient, and powerful, magic."

Harry felt his jaw drop. A revulsion rose from deep inside of him, a sweeping nausea that lodged uncomfortably in his throat.

"Are you...are you saying...Voldemort had to _eat_ the people he killed!" Harry could barely get the question out.

"To take in the life force of his victim, yes. To add life support to the fractured soul fragment held in the Horcrux receptacle. It is a practice long followed by magic folk the world over. The final stage that sealed the creation of his Horcrux."

"But that's _disgusting!_ " shrieked Hermione. "It's _vile_ , its...its..."

Ron suddenly got up and ran from the room, making audible noises of distress. Harry hoped there would be another sort of receptacle nearby for Ron to throw up into. He didn't feel that he, himself, would be far from joining him.

"So is that...is that why I'm _not_ a Horcrux," Harry asked, choking back another wave of revulsion. "Because Voldemort didn't _eat me_? After he murdered my parents, I mean."

Snape looked at Harry as though he were a three year old. "Don't be ridiculous, Potter. How could you be a Horcrux? Didn't you just hear me say that to create a Horcrux is a complex, three stage process? Leaving the moral ambiguities aside, this is a considered, planned out operation. The Dark Lord merely meant to murder you on account of the prophecy, and of course your parents would try to defend you. They were expendable to him."

Snape's tone was bitter, angry. He didn't want to think of Lily Potter, dead and lifeless after Voldemort's attack. This Harry could see etched into the lines of his face. It was deep and fierce, a shadow of memory behind the eyes. Had he been there? Seen her body, murdered and still? The idea crept through Harry like one of Snape's potions. He felt deeply unsettled by it.

"In any case," Snape went on. "The Dark Lord would not have been able to perform the incantations and rituals once his own body had been destroyed by the rebounding curse. And to consume you - if he _had_ made you into a Horcrux - would have defeated the object. It would have been akin to _self-cannibalism_."

That idea was too much for Harry. His mind span, dizzy and overloaded. A deep disgust flooded him. As much as he hated Voldemort, this new revelation was altogether more horrific. He looked at Hermione for support. He'd noticed how her grip on his arm had loosened, then he saw quite clearly why. She was slumped against the arm rest of the couch, eyes clenched shut. She had fainted.

"What made you think you _were_ a Horcrux, mister Potter?" asked Professor McGonagall. She too, looked distinctly pale, and more aged because of it. The soft morning light flooding in from the high windows of her office didn't help, as it made her skin look very thin and papery.

"Because I can sense the other Horcruxes," said Harry. "I can hear them, feel them sort of. I thought it made sense that I might be one."

"It does make skewed sense, in your two-dimensional, linear, cause and effect world," said Snape coolly. "There is certainly _something_ of the Dark Lord within you, a remnant of the power transferred after he failed to kill you as a child. What the nature of this is we may never know. You were, and remain, the only person to ever survive the Killing Curse, so such residual effects can only be guessed at. We have no other benchmark to test you against, as your case is unique.

"But you are not a Horcrux, nor would you be able to sense the others, as though they were individual entities. For they are not. They are fragments, pieces of a larger whole. And, for the most part, encased within inanimate objects which give off no sense of 'presence' of their own. It is possible the Dark Lord and his snake have felt when the other parts have been destroyed, as they are living beings. But, again, we can only speculate. It is not common for a wizard to split his soul, and those that have are unlikely to consent to rigorous academic testing and research to more deeply understand the process."

"No," Harry agreed. It was the darkest of Dark Arts for a reason. Those who practised such things were not about to start giving out interviews. "So, how can I sense them?"

"My guess would be something innate," said Snape. "Simply another type of power. Your mother's sacrifice gave you a protection against the Dark Lord. She died so he couldn't harm you. It is possible that the Charm she used gave you a type of awareness unique to the Dark Lord. An early warning system, if you like, to alert you to his presence. Something to activate the fight or flight whenever conflict with him was near. The Dark Lord _is_ his Horcruxes. He is with us now, here in this room, on that table. We cannot be sure in what form, but there he is."

Harry knew that part as surely as anything. On a deep, subconscious level, the Horcrux elicited the same response that Harry had felt to Voldemort before. He might have been back in the graveyard, or just emerging from the Department of Mysteries. The comparisons did not fill Harry with joy, or optimism.

He gritted his teeth. "There's only one way to find out. If you'll consent to the risk."

Snape looked at Harry. His expression was unreadable. No wonder Voldemort could never break him. Harry had to concede that begrudging respect.

"I consented to this risk before you were born, Potter."

Harry returned Snape's gaze, unbowed. He hated giving respect to Snape, he ached because of it. But increasingly he had to allow it. This man, who'd he'd once decried a coward, was actually one of the bravest people he'd ever met, to defy the evil of Voldemort so willingly, so calm and flagrantly. And it cut to Harry to admit it, singed his mind to accept it. But there it was, undeniable.

"Then lets get it over with," said McGonagall. She stood from behind her desk and drew her wand. Snape followed suit. Harry looked at Hermione, still unconscious on the couch. He wouldn't wake her, she need not be panicked about this. Better to not know, but just in case..."

"If anything happens...if this goes badly..."

Harry wasn't sure to whom he was speaking, but he couldn't even finish the sentence. He was about to unleash a part of Voldemort on the room, death was a real possibility. This could be the last time he saw Hermione, that he could gaze upon her beautiful face. A lump the size of a bludger wedged itself into his throat. His heart hammered madly. He should wake her. She'd be so cross with him for not. But he would deal with that later...if there was a later.

"We will take care of her, _if_ anything bad happens" said McGonagall firmly. "Let's just make sure it doesn't."

Harry took a steadying breath and stepped forward. His hand trembled slightly as he fiddled with the Horcrux, finding the clasp on the side. He gripped his own wand tightly in his other hand, trying to draw courage from Fawkes' tail feather sitting inside it. He took one last look at Snape and McGonagall - then flicked the clasp open.

Nothing.

No fizzing, no smoke, no curse spiking out at his face. It was almost a let down.

The three of them stepped closer to look at the now open Horcrux. It was still remarkably bland. Each half had two translucent windows, dark and grubby. There seemed to be nothing there. Harry might have thought he had picked up the fake locket by mistake, if it wasn't for the dark aria of Voldemort's soul playing in his ear now he was this close.

"What do you see, Potter? Can you see anything?"

"No," Harry replied. "There's nothing. Wait..."

Harry looked closer. His eyes were so near the Horcrux now he was almost head-butting it. He could see shifting shapes, mingling mists, semi-formed figures moving about behind the windows. It was like watching a sort of scene playing out through a grimy sheet of glass. Harry couldn't make out the details. He explained what he could see, knowing he wasn't making much sense.

"How can I know what's going on?" he asked eventually. "If I can't wear the locket, and its impervious to breaking, how can I know what that's all about?"

"Stop thinking like a Muggle!" Snape snapped. "You are a wizard, Potter! _Think_ like one!"

Harry frowned hard. "I was able to go _into_ Tom Riddle's diary to learn about him. I had to go _inside_ Gryffindor's armour...do I have to get in _there_ somehow...and bring Voldemort out with me?"

Snape looked at Harry as though he had finally learned that a spoonful of sugar made tea a bit sweeter.

"The locket has to be reduced to its base form, made just an object again," said Snape. "Then it can be destroyed and the Dark Lord's soul will have nowhere to go."

"And with no body to protect it, it can be killed easily," McGonagall offered. Snape nodded.

Harry glanced up at them. Instinctively, he knew what to do. With another steeling breath, with his heart and mind focused on Hermione's limp form behind him, he plunged his head forward and into the Horcrux.

He fell, lithely and slowly, as if sinking through a heavy mass of black water. The silence was so utterly complete Harry couldn't even hear his own heartbeat. He wondered if it had stopped altogether. But he wasn't particularly afraid. It was strange, yes, but so far nothing to cause overt alarm.

Then he was somewhere else.

It was like a cage. Bars stood before him. Wooden and oddly low. There was no roof to this cage. Harry looked up. There was a star and moon above him, a rainbow too. That was odd. They were shifting gently, as though in a light breeze from an open window. Their movements were random but rhythmical. Harry watched them and felt relaxed, sleepy.

Then there was a loud bang, and a scream so shrill and piercing, so horrified, so broken, that Harry yelped out in terror.

That voice, he knew it. It soothed and sung to him, cured him and loved him. Why was it screaming like that? Why was it so afraid? Why did it sear with a tone like its heart had been ripped out?

Harry felt immense terror creep over his skin, through his senses and shoot like icy pin pricks through his veins. His bowels emptied and he could almost taste the stench. He cried hard and pained, so afraid that his mind couldn't function properly. His body didn't seem to respond to him anymore. He tried to move, whether to help or flee he wasn't sure. But he knew how staying put would end. Somehow he just knew, as if he'd been here before.

Then, another scream. Closer now, maybe outside the room. He definitely knew the voice, though he couldn't remember ever speaking to its owner. He knew it to be soft, gentle. It hummed him lullabies and told him stories. It didn't scream out like that, it didn't feel terror. It was a protector, Harry was safe wherever that voice was. Except for tonight, and the incomprehensible fear that realisation sent coursing through Harry made him lose his mind momentarily.

" _Harry! Don't hurt Harry!"_

The desperation was unrivalled, the panic all-consuming. Then, another voice. Icy, high-pitched, snake-like.

" _Stand aside, woman!"_

_"Take me! Don't hurt him! Show mercy!"_

_"Avada Kedavra!"_

A flash of green, a low blast like a gunshot, a wave of evil energy irradiating the room. Harry felt it prickle over his skin like droplets of acid. He tried to reach up and rub them away, but his arms were little and useless. It jarred him to see them, and the realisation began to dawn.

But another sound drew him. The dull thud as the body of the woman crumpled to the floor. Dead as the grave and still as stone. It resonated in his bones, but then, something else. He couldn't have said what it was. It was another surge, another coat of energy enveloping him. But this was different, potent, more powerful than the last. And so _good_. He felt he could have walked through fire with it. It trickled through his flesh like a medicine, it empowered him. He struggled to his stubby little legs and stood, hands gripped to the rim of his cot.

He knew where he was, and what this was.

He looked up at Lord Voldemort, hooded, his slit-like eyes shining malevolently in the dim glow of the night light near the crib. It was midnight, the little music box sounded the hour from the dresser nearby. The tingling note struck out and surprised them both. Voldemort crushed it with a fist, then advanced on Harry, raising his wand as he did so.

Harry didn't have a wand. Or did he? He remembered having one, as much as he remembered _not_ having one. It was confusing. Voldemort seemed to notice.

"Hello, Harry Potter," he said, his icy tone lashing Harry like a whip. His voice was as much a question as a greeting.

Harry couldn't speak. He hadn't learned how yet.

"I killed you," Voldemort went on. "I remember it. I performed the Killing Curse. Right now, in this moment."

"Bah gah oooh," Harrysaid. He laughed at the sound. He hadn't meant his baby noises to come out. How was he able to think insults but only babble at Voldemort. For some reason, he found it hysterical. He garbled again. "Gah eerr looba. Ha ha ha."

Voldemort flinched. The sound seemed to hurt him. He stepped back as Harry laughed again.

"Again, Harry, keep doing it! Its weakening him."

A new voice, one so utterly sweet it was like bathing in honey. Where was it coming from? He wanted to run to it, not that he could run, but he could embrace it, and kiss it. Who was she?"

Voldemort heard it too. "Who speaks? Show yourself!"

" _Laugh,_ Harry," the girl urged. He loved that voice. He loved whoever it belonged to. He knew that as much as he knew he needed his nappy changed.

"Acco, mamia, boo," Harry babbled again. The girl laughed at the sound. It filled Harry's heart with intense joy to hear it. It was as if he had been told the most hilarious joke ever written. He passed wind as he shook with the giggles and that effect simply magnified the mirth. He howled with laughter, the girl laughed hard with him. Where was she? She had to be close.

Harry looked around. Voldemort had slumped back against the dresser. He was scratching at his skin, as though trying to claw out a poison running through it. Harry looked down. The body of his mother was in a crumpled heap against the cot. Harry felt a piercing sorrow take hold of him for a second, then the body began to move.

And it wasn't his mother at all.

A mane of bushy, tawny-brown hair rose in front of him. Knelt at the side of his cot and looked at him with such a deep, intense love that Harry felt encased in it. This was Hermione. He knew her. He loved her. She was going to save him.

"We need you to come back to us now," said Hermione. "Voldemort will try to curse you, but he cant hurt you. Your mother's love protects you, _my_ love protects you. Because I love you, Harry. You are so loved. Nothing can hurt you. Take my wand. It belonged to my ancestor. It will match Voldemort's when he strikes you. Can you say _Accio? Say Accio Voldemort_ for me."

"Acco...acca...accio,"

"Good Harry, that's good! Now Voldemort. Try it Vol-du-Mort."

"Waldy, voldie, worldy more..."

"Keep trying! You're almost there!"

Harry looked up. Voldemort had risen behind him. The laughter had stopped, Voldemort had regained his strength and was advancing. He had seen Hermione. His wand was pointed at her. He was going to kill her.

A protective force rose in Harry so powerful, so potent, that Hermione, even in whatever form she was appearing before him, moved back. She smiled beautifully at him and kissed him on the head, pressing the thin handle of the wand into his baby hands, angling it towards Voldemort. He raised his wand, his thin lips forming the words of the curse.

" _Avada K-"_

How dare you! Harry thought angrily. How dare you threaten her! How dare you try to take her from me, as you took my parents, and Sirius, and Dumbledore. There will be no more.

" _Accio Voldemort!"_

The body flew at him, his curse skewed away from Hermione and decimated the roof. Harry saw only briefly the damage for he was suddenly hurtling upwards, towards a glass window in the ceiling, gripping the screeching body of Lord Voldemort in an increasingly powerful grip.

Then he slammed into a cold, stone floor. Screams and cries echoed around him. He heard Hermione's voice first.

"Reducto!" a blast of reddish purple and the locket on the desk exploded into a thousand, harmless shards.

"Harry! Catch!"

It was Ron's voice next. Harry instinctively threw up his hands to catch, as Ron had ordered. But it wasn't a Snitch he was throwing. The Sword of Gryffindor flew threw the air. Harry leapt up and grabbed the jewel-hilted blade.

Then he saw what he needed it for.

A terrifying, agonised cry came from the floor. The creature huddled there turned Harry's blood cold. It was in a sort of bent, foetal position. Its skin charred and raw, its eyes half lizard. Its cries pained and bitter.

Harry didn't hesitate.

He brought the blade down firmly into the creatures chest. Black blood oozed from the deep incision and the tip of the sword clanged against the stone below. The creature gave out one last, angry wail. It fell still. Then its body started to come apart, layer by layer, curling to nothing like parchment burning in a hearth until it had disintegrated completely.

And another piece of Lord Voldemort was dead.


	22. All Hell-ows Eeve

Hermione took Harry's hand, leisurely smoothing it with her silky smooth fingertips. Harry loved it when she did that. It was small, a largely insignificant act, but wholly intimate to them. In some ways, Harry preferred it to the more grandiose gestures of passion often exchanged between them. It told him she was thinking tenderly of him when they were engaged in something totally unrelated. He thrilled at the thought of that. It stirred such intense things in his heart, tingled so electrifyingly over every inch of his skin, that he felt wildly euphoric when the sensations overtook him. It made him deeply thankful for having her.

And it made him want to kiss her senseless.

But on this occasion, he refrained. The patrons of the Three Broomsticks might not appreciate such an outpouring of affection.

It was a busy lunchtime and the first Hogsmeade visit of the year was in full swing. The students had abandoned their stuffy school robes and were in their casual winter wear, all clustered around the tables of the cosy pub. Harry and Ron were happily sipping foaming tankards of butterbeer while Hermione, now 18 and feeling brave, had decided to sample mead. The honey based wine was sweet and viscous and Harry was weighing it up as he snuck a sip without Madame Rosmerta catching him.

"Hmm," he said, quaffing the heady liquor as if he were a sommelier. "Bit weird, isn't it?"

"Its very sweet, almost sickly so," Hermione agreed. "But it is warming. A bit like medicine."

"Who ever thought drinking medicine would be a good thing?" said Ron, after accepting Hermione's offer of her glass. "I like it, though. Nicer than firewhiskey for sure."

Harry looked around the pub. It was a remarkably pleasant afternoon and he found himself taken in by it. It had been nearly a week since they had destroyed Slytherin's Locket and Harry was finally starting to feel pleased with himself. Hermione had only been angry with him for a day or so after the episode, which was far shorter a time than he had expected. For not waking her, as he walked towards a possible death, he had expected at least a month of grief. But she had found him so cute, after seeing him as a baby, that she found it hard to be mad at him for too long. Harry might have thought she was feeling a bit broody, if it wasn't for the almighty row she gave him in the immediate aftermath.

Still, the making up sessions after it were hugely enjoyable, not to mention insanely intense.

But it was when he tried to describe the experience that his latest problems started. Ron was the first to ask the obvious question, and as soon as he did Harry felt the change in himself.

"What was it like? Being a baby?" Ron had asked.

Harry had to analyse the event for an answer, and the result altered him. For it equated to the deepest, darkest, most helpless sense of fear and terror he had ever experienced. To be totally defenceless, against a Voldemort at the height of his powers, had been such an intensely terrifying episode that Harry was fundamentally unsettled.

Sleep was now near impossible. He saw visions of his mother's death, of Cedric being so callously murdered, of Hermione being ripped to pieces by Voldemort's hands. This was the most gut-tearingly alarming piece of it all. For he was now convinced that Voldemort knew about Hermione, knew how important she was in Harry's life. And Harry couldn't shift this unfathomable conviction that Voldemort was now plotting an attack against her. The idea lodged in Harry's stomach, a deep and potent sickness that didn't leave him through his waking hours and haunted what little sleep he managed.

He had told Hermione about his fears a few days after destroying the Horcrux. He had barely spoken to anyone since the event and Hermione had coaxed him into a walk around the now snowy grounds of Hogwarts to get the truth out of him. Reliving the event, and his terror, reduced him to tears. Showing such weakness in front of Hermione was permitted; he felt safe with her and knew she would soothe and calm him. But his concern and worry would not abate, and he feared letting her out of his sight for even a moment.

Which was why he was to be found gripping her hand tightly, as they sat enjoying a drink at the Three Broomsticks. Ron was in a very good mood, and Harry was buoyed by his mates' chipper attitude. It lifted his own dark spirits considerably. The reason for this was that Luna Lovegood had agreed to meet Ron for date later on in the day and he was very excited at the prospect.

"How's my hair? Looking okay?"

Ron would fire random questions like this, vaguely at either Harry or Hermione, every time the conversation lulled. He was infectionably nervous, but in a thrilled sort of way. Harry hadn't seen this sort of enthusiasm in Ron for awhile. It amused him and was a helpful tonic to his own personal angst.

"You know," he said. "I'm surprised you're this excited. A few weeks ago you were concerned about what people might say if they saw you with Luna. Now you're practically bouncing."

"Yeah," Hermione agreed. "You haven't stop fidgeting since this morning."

"Hey - have you found me having a go at you and your touchy-feely relationship?" asked Ron. Harry and Hermione swapped incredulous expressions, then directed them at Ron. He blushed, sheepishly. "Okay, maybe I gave you a _bit_ of a hard time at first, but I've warmed up since. I'd just like my own turn, that's all."

Harry shifted uncomfortably in his seat. Hermione could tell why. She squeezed his hand and looked at him with a comforting smile. He drank her in, returned her smile and moved closer to her on the bench. Their thighs were now pressed firmly together and Harry bathed in the heat between them.

"So, no embarrassment then?" Harry asked.

"Nope," said Ron, unabashed. "Luna's fit. You were right about her all along, Harry."

Hermione's head snapped at Harry and she shot him a sharp, piercing look. He wasn't brave enough meet her eyes.

" _So,"_ Harry said quickly. "Where are you taking her?"

"That's the thing," said Ron, blissfully unaware of the hornets nest he'd just kicked between his two best friends, "she's taking _me_ somewhere. It's bound to be mad, isn't it? I mean, its Luna. But I'm just going to go with it. Could be fun and will definitely be a laugh."

"Just make sure you are laughing _with_ her and not _at her_ ," said Harry seriously. He had developed a protective instinct for Luna and Ron knew all about it.

"I know, I know," said Ron, throwing his hands up. "I don't want you coming to hex me, Harry. But I promise, I'm not messing her around. You haven't got to worry."

Hermione was fuming at Harry now. It radiated off her like a sort of burning heat. Harry turned red in the face of it. Ron seemed to sense it too.

"Right...well, I'd better be going," he said, awkwardly. "I don't want to keep Luna waiting. Meet back up at Hogwarts later?"

"Definitely," said Harry. "We'll want all the gory details!"

"Shut up, Harry," said Ron, flushing to the roots of his hair. "Er...you okay to settle up?"

"Yeah, no worries," said Harry. "It's my shout."

"Okay thanks," said Ron gleefully. "See you later. Wish me luck."

And then he was gone. Harry turned to Hermione, desperately fighting back a grin on his face as he clocked her, frankly, murderous expression.

"Oh, _come on"_ Harry protested.

" _Come on_ , nothing," said Hermione firmly. "What did that all mean?"

"Not what you're thinking," said Harry. "I told you before that I had a go at Ron for using Luna at Bill's wedding."

"Yes, but I never gave it much thought as to _why_. Never really thought why it was you were so concerned about Luna. Did you fancy her?"

"Luna! Don't be silly."

"Silly? You're the one standing up for her. And Ron said you thought she was fit."

Harry took a weary breath. He withdrew his hand from Hermione's and took off his glasses. If they were going to row he didn't think he was up to the task.

"I'm really not going to do this with you, Hermione. Not here, not now."

His voice was tired. Hermione didn't seem to notice.

"I'm not going to let you avoid this," she said. "I want an answer."

Harry sighed. He turned to Hermione. Without his glasses on, she was blurry. It was odd to look at her like this.

"Luna is my friend," Harry began. He put his glasses back on. "I know you aren't that keen on her, but I like her. She's loyal and honest. It makes her a bit wacky but I like that about her. And people give her a hard time when she doesn't deserve a bit of it. Do you know that other students steal her stuff because they think its funny?"

Hermione looked chastened. "No...no I didn't know that. That's awful."

"Yeah, it is. But does she complain? No. She just asks nicely for her things back. I don't know about you, but I wouldn't act the same way. So, yeah, maybe I'm a bit concerned for her and I look out for her when I can. And do I think she's pretty? Yeah, I do, because she is. But I don't _fancy her_. I'm sure you find other boys good-looking. You'd be odd if you didn't. But I don't care as long as you think I'm the _most_ good looking -"

"Well of course I do!"

"Then what's the difference?"

Hermione bit her lip. She looked down at her hands, her fingers grazing each other forcefully. "I don't like you finding other girls pretty, Harry. I know most will be prettier than me. I know how plain I am and I don't like competing with other girls for your attention, because I know I'll lose."

Harry would have tutted at this, but he had learned a little bit about insensitivity. Instead, he took Hermione's hands again and moved his head to look directly into her eyes.

"I don't mind telling you every day, but you know I think you're beautiful, don't you? That if I was only allowed to look at one face ever again, it'd be yours. That the _only_ girl I fancy is you?"

A smile tried to pluck at the corners of Hermione's mouth. She was battling against it. Harry decided to help. He slid back, deeper into the booth, and drew Hermione with him as he went. She sighed in mock reluctance, but allowed herself to be pulled close to him, nearly onto his lap. As soon as he was ensconced in the nook of the bench, Harry snaked his hand up into Hermione's bushy hair and tilted her head down to his. Their lips met, gently yet firmly, their tongues raking against each other as they kissed deeply. It went on for ages. Harry would later struggle to remember a longer kiss they'd shared. When they finally broke apart, breathless and bright eyed, all the previous tension between them had totally evaporated.

"Convinced now?" Harry asked.

"A little," said Hermione, teasingly. "A bit more of that might do the trick, though."

"You are so gorgeous, do you even know?" said Harry, cupping Hermione's face in his hands and smoothing her cheeks. "I could look at you forever and I'd be happy."

She shone like she was on fire. "Then come here and get a closer look."

She pulled him to her and reinstated their kiss with a bit more passion than she normally showed in public. She brought her knee up and tangled her leg around his, as though trying to prevent him from leaving. He wouldn't even if he could've. After all, where would be better than here?

Hermione, herself, came up with the quiet, tempting suggestion. She broke the kiss and whispered seductively in Harry's ear.

"You know, everyone's in Hogsmeade all day today. Fancy keeping me company in the Head Girl's Room?"

Madame Rosmerta walked by and Harry drew her attention.

"Can we get the bill please? We have to go. As in, _right now_."

* * *

A good while later that evening Harry and Hermione were resting in bed together, spent and shivering pleasantly. Harry had his head against Hermione's bare chest, letting it rise gently with her breathing as she threaded her fingers through his hair. It was hypnotically relaxing. Utterly content, Harry simply enjoyed the moment.

And that part of him, which had hurt and was scarred so badly after facing the locket, felt like it began to heal.

But it was replaced by something else, something altogether more steely and resolute. There was a firming inside him, a steadfast facing down of an overriding fear that had been looming deep within that now, for some reason, he felt strong enough to confront.

Hermione sensed the change in him. Her fingers stopped their rhythmic threading but she held his head a little tighter to her chest. "What it is? You're tense."

"I'm just thinking."

"I know that thinking," Hermione said quietly. "That's Voldemort thinking."

"How can you tell?"

"I just can. You don't tense up this way for anything else. Want to talk about it?"

Harry thought probably not, but he couldn't keep anything from Hermione. Not any more. She would wheedle it from him eventually.

"I was just thinking, I reckon I can do it, when it comes to it," Harry said slowly.

"Do what?"

"Kill him. Kill Voldemort."

Hermione sat up, Harry followed suit. He looked into her eyes, his gaze iron-clad and resolved.

"He's not taking this from me, Hermione," said Harry firmly. "He's not taking you from me. So, when it comes to it, when we finally face off for the last time, I'm going to do it. I wasn't always sure I could. That I mightn't have it in me. But now, I know I do. This is what Dumbledore was on about. This is the power he knows not. I love you. And I'm going to kill a man to keep you safe. Does that make me a bad man myself?"

Hermione smiled, gentle and deep. "Of course it doesn't. But you aren't going to kill him alone. I'm going to be there with you. And we'll do it together."

Harry sat bolt upright. "What? What are you talking about?"

"I've been thinking about this, Harry," said Hermione. She was quite unmoved. "The prophecy ties you and Voldemort together. It's there plain and simple. But how it has to play out isn't quite so straight cut. I think its what Snape was trying to say when he gave me Ravenclaw's wand. That we are...that you...that you're not alone anymore. Not in this...not in anything."

Hermione's words carried a weight of enormity. Harry felt them envelope him, threaten to smother him. But he wasn't entirely sure this was a bad thing. His heart felt fluttery, oddly light. He could see Hermione, not so much as offering to share this burden with him, but saying she already had, and would continue to until the bitter end. He had never felt so thankful, or unworthy, of her.

"What are you trying to say?" he managed to mutter, though his breath was ragged.

Hermione shifted closer to him, took his head in both her hands. Harry stupidly noticed the bedsheet had fallen from her shoulders and she was naked from the neck down. The sight still made him shiver excitedly.

"I love you, Harry. And you love me. _That's_ the power that will end Voldemort. He embodies a vague, ultimate evil, but I cant quite envisage that. But you...what we have...I'm _living_ it. Living that power. And there's no way I'm giving it up either, or letting you face any part of it alone. Or any part of life after it. Because there is one, Harry. A happy, beautiful one. For you and me. And for anyone else who gets through it. But it will be you and me, us versus him in the end. And we will win."

There was such strong assuredness, of certainty, in her voice that Harry let his last, lingering doubts go. If Hermione said it would be so, he trusted her to show him, to show them, the way to make it happen. She always did. And then she was kissing him again, firmly and forcefully, as though to seal a bond they had just made. Harry brought his hands up along the cool skin of her arms, her shoulders, losing it in the soft curls of her hair, and brought her down to the pillow again.

The night was still young.

* * *

Halloween dawned fresh and misty the next day. The Great Hall of Hogwarts was resplendent with its several hundred live bats, giant carved pumpkins housing flickering candles, and the students all chattering excitedly about the evening feast and party that was to follow. Last minute dates were being arranged, with embarrassed students tripping over themselves to secure partners for the dance, clothing tips being swapped and a roaring trade in illicit potions and perfumes busily active on the flourishing Hogwarts black market.

If it wasn't for the threat of Voldemort, it might seem a bit normal.

Harry, Hermione and Ron watched it all with a sort of sardonic amusement. Hermione kept stealing twinkling glances at Harry and he knew they were thinking the same thing - how nice it was to not have to worry about getting a date. Harry was frowning slightly at the thought, suspecting that while his own happiness was based on not having to show himself up asking someone, Hermione was probably pleased to have been spared the ignominy of _not_ being asked. Harry felt a surge of covetousness towards her, both incensed that nobody else would think to ask such a perfect girl for a date, while at the same time feeling he'd probably perform the Cruciatus Curse on anyone who came within ten feet to try. He gave her hand a gentle squeeze to try and communicate all these things. The little smile he received back suggested he was successful.

"So, you two going to be hanging around for the feast later?" Ron asked, spreading butter on a crumpet. "No going to dash off after another Horcrux today or anything?"

"No, I think we might give it a go," said Hermione. "Haven't any better plans for the evening do we, Harry?"

Harry thought he might have had something else in mind but kicked his thoughts back to the gutter. "No, we'll stay I think. Depends if I can get a date, I suppose."

He winked at Hermione, who screwed up her face in return.

"What about you? Taking Luna?" asked Hermione.

Ron nearly choked on his orange juice. Hermione shook her head pityingly at him. "I merely meant are you taking her to the dance this evening."

"Oh, right," said Ron, flushing to his roots. "Yeah, I asked her this morning. She's making her dress as we speak. Maybe I should ask her to make me new dress robes. Can't be any worse than my old ones."

"How did your date go yesterday?" asked Harry. It was the first chance he'd got for a proper interrogation.

"Yeah, it was really good," said Ron enthusiastically. "We went out of Hogsmeade and followed the Express track into the countryside. There are some old caverns there with some really spooky stuff and the views were nice. It was good."

Hermione was looking curiously at Ron. "That sounds oddly...romantic."

"So what?" he retorted.

"Oh, nothing," said Hermione, taken aback by Ron's brisk tone. "It's just...unexpected. Nicely so, don't get me wrong, but unexpected all the same."

Ron looked to Harry for an explanation. His expression bordered on the insulted, almost wounded.

"We expected you to be off hunting one of her imaginary creatures," said Harry. "Or else just snogging her face off, that's all."

"I am not a troll!" Ron protested. "I do have _some_ emotional range, you know."

Harry and Hermione shared a look which quite plainly said _teaspoon_.

"That's good to know," said Harry placatingly. Ron looked on the verge of a strop. "Glad you had a good time. We'll have to double date tonight, if that's okay with you?"

"Yeah, alright. Just don't show me up," said Ron.

"And how would we do that?" asked Hermione, affronted.

"Look, you two are all over each other, all the time. All loved up and stuff. And its fine. But I'm not that confident and I don't want to make a mess of things. I just don't want Luna to _expect_ something and I'm not able to do it."

"The one thing about Luna, is never think you know what she expects," said Harry.

"I do know, that's what I like about her," said Ron. "Anyway. I've got to go. See if I can find something better to wear than my dress robes. See you later."

And with that he got up and left. Hermione turned to Harry. "You know, I think he really does like her. Getting all defensive, making an effort. If that's one positive impact we have on the world, making Ron a little less of an insensitive wart, then I think we can be quite proud of ourselves."

"Spreading love one couple at a time, eh?" said Harry. Hermione nodded assertively. "I don't know about that. But anyway, finish up. I want to take you somewhere."

Hermione raised her eyebrows suspiciously. "Where?"

"Hogsmeade Station. Those walks _did_ sound romantic. And I'll take you to lunch in the village on the way back if you fancy it."

"How could a girl refuse an offer like that?" she gave him a little kiss. "I'll just grab my coat and meet you in the Entrance Hall."

All in all, Harry and Hermione had a very pleasant day. Their stroll through the countryside of Hogsmeade was lovely, and it was nice to have a cosy lunch in the village without all the students milling around. Of course, Harry still had to contend with the cursory glances and Hermione, too. It occurred to Harry how easy it would be for Voldemort to find them here, or gain intelligence about their relationship for, as Ron had pointed out, they really did make little effort to hide it.

So as it was, Harry felt a certain sense of safety to be back behind the latent security of Hogwarts. He felt comfortable enough to let his guard down and looked forward to enjoying the evening with Hermione in a relatively relaxed state. When she came down to the Entrance Hall to meet him, however, all notions of Dark Lords and Horcruxes went out the window.

She was wearing a floaty silver dress which plunged elegantly from the neck and traced the contours of her body with stylish grace. She had done something different to her hair; it flowed down over one shoulder in a thick cascade and shimmered slightly where the candlelight caught it. Her skin and eyes sparkled too, and the smile she wore at Harry's awestruck face simply completed the look. Harry was in no doubt - he'd turned up with the best looking girl in the place.

"Don't think I have to ask if you like it," Hermione laughed, giving a little curtsey as she reached Harry. "I hope your jaw didn't hurt _too_ much when it hit the floor."

"Good Merlin, Hermione - you look incredible!" Harry managed to say. His eyes were all over her, sweeping from head to toe and back again. He felt slightly drunk on her.

"Why thank you," she beamed back. "You obviously look gorgeous. Shall we go in, or are we waiting for Ron?"

"Sod Ron, he's not sharing this limelight," said Harry. Hermione laughed again and curled her arm into his. "Lets head inside."

The Great Hall looked, well, great. The house tables had been moved after the feast and a number of small, circular tables now lined the walls, leaving space for a dancefloor, and drinks counter in the middle of the room. The high table, where the teachers sat, had also been replaced by a bandstand, and the popular wizarding band _Magnum Opus_ were already well into their set.

Heads turned as Harry and Hermione entered. They were as close to celebrity guests as the party was likely to get and all wanted to see how they looked dressed for the occasion. There was a little hushed talk and pointing, mostly at Hermione who drew approving glances from both sexes. Harry felt a swell of pride to be arm-in-arm with her, for once courting the jealousy and attention of others. Hermione blushed with the admiration and it diffused a lovely glow over her soft features. The students of Hogwarts were of course used to seeing them together, but in this setting it just made Harry all the more proud to call Hermione his girlfriend.

Ron and Luna joined them not long after they'd found a table and sat down. Ron looked a little miffed that Harry and Hermione hadn't waited for them outside but Harry gave him a sorry look and then beamed in Hermione's direction. Ron gave Hermione a quick appraising sweep and his eyes betrayed all the things Harry felt he dared not say. It was appreciative enough and Harry rather felt that would do. The words need stay unsaid.

"Hello," said Luna as they sidled up to Harry and Hermione's table. "You look very pretty, Hermione."

"Well thank you, Luna," Hermione replied with a wide smile. "You look lovely too. I really like your dress."

"Thank you," beamed Luna, serenely. "I like to make them myself. Its really the only way to be sure there aren't nargles in the fabric. Shall I check yours for them? I have some special glasses in my bag."

"No, no, I'm sure its fine," said Hermione hurriedly. Harry grinned at her from across the table.

"Oh well, if you're sure," said Luna. "Ron likes my dress, I think. He's been looking at it an awful lot already."

"I'm sure he has," said Harry, not really thinking. Hermione glowered at him and aimed a kick at his shins under the table. Harry fought back a wince as her pointy shoe grazed him. "You do look very nice, Luna."

"Hey, you have your own girl to ogle," said Ron possessively. He added teasingly, "Keep your eyes off my date, Potter!"

Even Hermione laughed at that. "Yes, he does. So look at me please, _boyfriend_."

Harry doubted he'd hear a better suggestion all evening.

They had a very enjoyable time. They danced a lot, drank an inordinate amount of butterbeer and had a lot of laughs. Harry was cheered to see Hermione taking great pains to warm up to Luna. She found that not everything she said was far-fetched and dreamy. Hermione even seemed rather surprised that Luna was sharper and more quick-witted than she had given her credit for, and told Harry so. Harry really wished he could listen, but at the time they were slow dancing and Harry's world-perception had narrowed down to just Hermione, the way her head felt comfortable on his shoulder as her hair tickled his cheek. He really had little mind for anything else.

Which was why the interruption which shattered their night couldn't have been more poorly timed.

Harry saw it coming, as though through an innate sense of danger. It came in the form of Snape, sweeping across the dancefloor, as if he were king of the bats fluttering overhead. He had another man in tow, a small mousy person Harry didn't know. The students gave them a wide berth as they cut through the crowd. Snape made a bee line right for Harry and Hermione, and they stopped swaying as the former Potions master reached them. He nodded pointedly to the ante room at the back of the Great Hall and led the way there.

Harry had memories of this room and they were not fond ones. He remembered standing here with a numb sense of disbelief after his name had shot out of the Goblet of Fire. It should have prepared him for what was to come, but Snape gave him no time to settle and reminisce.

"I will come right to the point," said Snape. "This is Francis Simpkins. He's an Auror and friendly to the Order of the Phoenix. He has a message that you need to hear...both of you."

"Hello, Mr Potter," said Simpkins. "It is really you, isn't it?"

"Yes, it is," said Harry, wary and a little bemused.

"Forgive me, its just such a pleasure to finally meet The Chosen One."

He held out his hand to shake. Harry took it.

And the scar on his forehead suddenly burst open, searing white-hot as though it had been torn apart by lightening.

Harry heard a faint scream that he knew belonged to Hermione, but his own screech of wretched agony largely drowned it out. There was a flash of red, but Harry could barely see anything else. The drumming pain in his head blinded him and he fell to the floor. A thousand pin-pricks of fire stabbed into his scar, his skin felt like it was melting and Harry was sure his skull was about to splinter from the powerful, throbbing pressure. Something had to make it stop. If he could only reach his wand, maybe he could somehow flay off his skin and get it over with.

Then, that voice. That icy, high-pitched tone.

"Greetings, Harry Potter."

It was as if he heard it with his mind rather than his ears. The voice seemed to reverberate through his senses and from inside his bones. It chilled Harry. Icicles of fear replaced the pincushion of fire at his temples. Harry tried to summon up courage, but Voldemort had him in a vice of terror.

"Listen to me, Harry. I know of your girlfriend, I wish to get to know her better. I have brought her parents to me. Though, I'm afraid to say, they aren't enjoying their visit. Come to me, Harry Potter. Give yourself up, and I will spare the Muggles and even be lenient with your Muggle-born girlfriend. You remember my own parents house, I'm sure. It is fitting, don't you think. I await your surrender."

Harry cried out in terrified anguish, but also in anger, in fear. Fear for Hermione's parents. The pain in his scar was receding, his vision slowly returning.

"Harry! _Harry!"_ Hermione's own cries were similarly impassioned. "What happened? Are you alright? Please say something."

She was fussing with his hair and his glasses. He wished she would stop. He had to tell her, had to make her see...

Harry grabbed hold of Hermione's dress and pulled her down to him, for he was flat out on the floor. "Did...d-did you hear?"

"Hear? Hear what?"

Harry breathed a slight sigh of relief. At least Voldemort had been in his head. He wasn't in the room. He couldn't hurt Hermione here, when Harry was in such a useless state and unable to defend her. But still, he had to tell her...

"What should I have heard, Harry? Was it him? Was it Voldemort?"

Harry heard Snape take a sharp intake of breath. It may have been the first time he'd heard Hermione speak Voldemort's name and whether he was shocked or impressed by this Harry couldn't tell, but he could sort that out later. Harry had more pressing issues.

"Yeah, yeah it was him," said Harry, his thumping heart making his breaths short and harsh. "He...he said I have to surrender to him. Hermione...we, we'll get them back I promise, but...I'm so sorry, Hermione...Vo-Voldemort...he has your parents!"


	23. A Chance Not To Miss

Hogwarts' largely deserted corridors had never seemed so still. It was jarring, compared with the raucous laughter and merriment from the Great Hall, not to mention the panicked whirring inside Harry's mind. His thoughts were racing each other around his head, each more chilling than the last and the scale of grotesque outcomes only growing, as each minute passed without embarking on a rescue mission for Hermione's parents.

He had been halfway though the main doors when Hermione had suddenly snatched at his arm and drew him up the staircase. Where were they going? The rescue was in the other direction. Hermione wasn't speaking. She was single minded, set to task. What this might have been, that was more important than racing to her parents' aid, Harry couldn't rightly fathom. He allowed himself to be guided along by Hermione, not really paying much mind to where they were going, but mindful of the shrewd chessmove Voldemort had just played on them.

Harry rather thought he should have seen it coming.

It was all too easy. He'd let his life get too sweet, too beautiful with Hermione at his side. He'd dropped his guard, two Horcruxes down or not. You couldn't afford to switch off even for a moment with a wizard like Tom Riddle around. He was too clever, to the point of waiting till you were the most vulnerable, most off-guard to strike. He'd probably just been waiting for the right moment, and Harry had walked right into it.

It soon became clear where Hermione was taking them. The route to the Headteacher's office was all too familiar for Harry. Their pace was brisk; Harry, dragged along by Hermione, Snape bringing up the rear with the subdued Auror being levitated in front of him, completely immobile. Harry's groggy mind tried to remember what happened to the stocky little man, but the memory evaded him.

Snape opened the office door and led the way in. Harry and Hermione mutely followed. Snape dumped his prisoner unceremoniously onto one of the seats at the desk, and re-cast his binding spells. Without looking up, he moved to the fireplace and flicked his wand at it. The flames glowed a dull viridian for a moment.

"Minerva," Snape spoke into the fire. "Your presence is required immediately."

The flames sparkled emerald green again for a moment, then returned to normal.

Harry had waited long enough. "What's going on? We should be halfway to the Riddle House by now."

"Don't be ridiculous, Harry," said Hermione. "And send you right into Voldemort's waiting arms? I don't think so."

Harry goggled at her. She seemed odd. She was not calm, that was for sure, but Harry struggled to place a title on her mood. Determined, maybe. Steely and resolute too. A tad angry, even. But sad, panicked, miserable, the things Harry would have expected in this situation...not a bit of it. He felt like he'd been told a punchline but missed the joke.

"I don't get it," said Harry. "He has your -"

"He does not have my parents," said Hermione abruptly. "Or if he does, things are worse than we thought."

Harry was silenced. He felt an odd urge to look at Snape, either for intelligence or reassurance, he couldn't be sure. It was so alien for him to look for either into that sallow face that Harry may as well have been trying to learn a new language on the day of an exam. Snape knew what he was thinking.

"You seem to forget quite easily how much more intelligent and perceptive your girlfriend is than you, Potter," he said silkily. "I do not believe she is as reactionary and limited in her thinking as you are."

"Meaning what?"

"Meaning that she has likely deducted the danger her parents would be in if news of your relationship became public. And, as you seem keen to make the front page of everything from the _Daily Prophet_ to the _Glastonbury One Street Gazette_ with evidence of your fornications, it is highly probable that the Dark Lord is well informed about it already. Armed with this knowledge, Miss Granger has, quite of her own volition, taken steps to place her parents into safe custody."

Harry swung around to Hermione, who nodded in acknowledgement and shrugged in a sort of _would-you-expect-anything-less_ sort of way. Harry shook his head at his own impudent stupidity. His relief was so palpable he chanced a small grin at Hermione and allowed his racing heartbeat to take a breather.

"Then they are safe?" Harry asked.

"That's what we are waiting to confirm," said Snape. He looked to the fire again, but at that moment there was a little _pop_ and Professor McGonagall was suddnely standing with them, hand-in-hand with a house-elf.

"The stairs would have taken far too long," she said, straightening her tartan gown. Hermione scowled slightly at the improper use of house-elves but kept her counsel. There were serious issues at hand and the little elf seemed all too pleased to have been of service. She bowed and with another _crack_ she was gone.

"Now, what's this about? To break into my office I can only assume the reasons will justify the act."

"Forgive me, Minerva," said Snape. "We needed somewhere secure...for _him._ "

He jerked an angry head at the prone body, now slumped over the Headmistress' desk.

"Who is he?" asked McGonagall.

"His name's Simpkins, he's a Auror," Snape explained. "Or he was. He'll be off for a nice spell at Azkaban when we are finished with him."

"What happened?"

Harry turned to Snape. He'd quite like to hear this himself.

"He came with a message for Potter," Snape began. "I know him. He's an insider for the Order. It didn't occur to me to screen him. A lapse on my part. Rest assured, it wont happen again. I don't make the same mistake twice."

Oddly, Snape flashed his eyes at Harry. In a roundabout way he felt this admission was aimed for him. Harry wondered if he should say 'apology accepted' or not.

"What was the message?" asked Professor McGonagall.

"I should have known there wasn't one," said Snape. "The Order has its established patterns of communication. Hand delivered messages are out of the norm. It should have rung an alarm with me. Like I said, I wont be so foolish again. He wanted to implant Potter with this."

Snape reached into his pocket and pulled out a sharp, white crystal. He placed it onto the desk. It looked innocuous enough.

"Now what in Merlin is that?"

"It is a quartz resonator," said Snape. "The Dark Lord was concerned about what happened to his - _hem -_ loyal followers after his last demise. During his first reign, his very presence was enough to ensure devotion, and unswerving loyalty. Fear kept the minions in line.

"But not all returned when he summoned them after his return. The Dark Mark wasn't enough anymore. Some didn't truly believe in his return, some had lost faith after his defeat to Potter. You remember the Death Eater cult that rallied around Potter as a baby? Thought he was the true Dark Lord."

"Of course," said McGonagall. "There were so many Aurors stationed around Little Whingeing that some people called it the Ring of Gold."

Harry's head swam at the idea. He had heard the concept before, but to think that there were a band of fanatical followers trying to worship him was a bit more than he felt capable of dealing with.

"So this resonator," Hermione said. "What does it do?"

Snape considered her a moment. "The Dark Lord imbibes it with a host of enchantments, then places it under the skin of his followers. He has a master crystal from which all fragments are taken. He can use it to control the others. It renders the implantee highly susceptible to suggestion."

"Like the Imperious Curse?" Harry offered.

"Yes but on a permanent level," said Snape. "With the Imperious the caster has to be within casting distance of the victim. This has a far greater range."

"So he was trying to get one of them into me?" asked Harry. "So I'd just go straight to him as soon as he ordered it?"

"That seems to be the case," said Snape. "Luckily I was able to cut the crystal out before it encased you cerebral cortex."

Harry suddenly felt an urge to rub his temple. There was a tender spot on his left temple. Scar tissue was starting to heal there.

"Don't say I've got another friggin scar on my head?" he cried despairingly.

"Its only a little one," said Hermione consolingly, curling her arm into his. "And its bound to fade over time."

"But...what's all this mean about your parents?" asked Harry. "How can you be sure they are safe?"

"Your parents?" asked Professor McGonagall, suddenly taut. "What does this have to do with them?"

Harry took a ragged breath and shook the last of the panic from his system. "He...Voldemort...spoke to me in my head. He said he had Hermione's mum and dad hostage. He wanted me to go to him, trade my life for theirs."

"He must know you're vulnerable to that kind of tactic," said Hermione. "It worked with Sirius, didn't it? He probably thought it was a vein worth mining again."

"Excuse me, I am not vulnerable to that kind of thing!" Harry protested indignantly.

"Oh come on, honey," said Hermione lightly. "You'd try and save the day if someone told you night-time was threatening it."

Harry opened his mouth to protest but Hermione's teasing wink totally disarmed him. He smirked back at her.

"I've never thought there was anything wrong with trying to help out, that's all" said Harry simply. "Besides, I'm pretty good at saving people...sometimes."

"Its fifty-fifty at best, sweetie," said Hermione grinning at him.

"Yeah, you're probably right. But where are you parents then, if Voldemort doesn't have them?"

"I genuinely don't know," said Hermione. She turned to look at Professor McGonagall. "You'd have to ask their Secret Keeper."

Harry looked the Headmistress in genuine surprise. She smiled kindly in return.

"It was the least I could do for such an illustrious student," said Professor McGonagall. "It's not like I'm asking to be Godmother to your children, you know. Though you might want to consider Minerva as a girls' name."

A part of Harry's heart took flight at the idea of having children with Hermione. He wasn't sure about Minerva as a name though.

"So where are they?" Harry asked.

"I'm not going to tell you that," said Professor McGonagall. "Just in case there are residual effects of that bizarre quartz contraption. No, I shall take you there myself. Severus, I would appreciate some extra security if you would lend us your wand."

"Naturally, Minerva. Lead on."

Harry felt a weird sense of gratuity to Snape. He felt safer that he was accompanying them. It was an odd feeling, but it was getting easier to be less repulsed by such sensations with each one that he had.

Professor McGonagall crossed to the fire and flicked her wand at the flames, in much the same way Snape had. She beckoned them to the fire, Snape first, followed by Hermione, with Harry next along. They all stepped through the flames, span dizzyingly and emerged into the living room of a small flat.

"Hermione!"

A woman with curly dark hair had called out in surprise before leaping up and clobbering Hermione with an engulfing bear hug. Hermione hugged her mother back as her father entered from the kitchen and joined the family reunion.

Harry hung back uncertainly. Their last, and only, meeting hadn't exactly gone to plan. Harry was keen to put things right but knew this might not be the moment. Hermione was having none of it though.

"Harry, get over here!" she implored through happy tears. "Let's get this right this time."

Harry ambled over, somewhat awkwardly. "Hi, David. Nice to see you again."

"And nice to know your head was screwed on about this danger," said Hermione's father. He smiled at Harry with respect in every line of his face. "Hermione was a little bit reckless, it would seem. Good to see you talked logic into her."

"It wasn't me, sir," said Harry meekly. "I knew nothing about this till a few minutes ago."

"Then you must have affected our little girl on a far deeper level," said Hermione's mum brightly, disengaging herself from the embrace.

"I don't know about that, Mrs Granger," said Harry, flushing. "Its the other way round if anything."

Hermione beamed at him.

"Now, now, what's all this 'Mrs Granger' stuff? If you can call David by his name surely you can give me the same privilege. You do remember it, don't you?"

She was funning with him, but Harry was blindsided by it.

"Of course, Mrs Catrin, I mean, Catrin," Harry stumbled. The Grangers were so much warmer towards him since their last meeting that he felt himself caught off guard. He didn't know what could have effected such a transformation.

"So, what do we owe the pleasure?"

Harry turned sharply, startled by a new voice. "Professor Lupin!"

"Hello Harry," said Lupin coming over and shaking Harry's hand.

"What are you doing here?"

"The Order asked for a little extra protection for the future in-laws of the Chosen One," Lupin teased. He winked at the Grangers. Hermione had turned scarlet. "And with Nymphadora heavily pregnant now I felt it was a fine excuse to spirit her away from field work with the Auror office."

"So is Tonks here too?" asked Harry.

"We have the flat next door," Lupin explained. "Nymph is out for a walk. The marina of Cardiff Bay has some nice fresh air to offset her nausea. Pregnancy doesn't sit well with her."

Harry looked out of the window. It was a nice view with all the boats bobbing away on the water a few hundred yards away. He tried to spot Tonks, but thought she had likely abandoned her bubble-gum hair for something a little less conspicuous.

"But back to my question, what brings you here?"

Lupin aimed this question at Snape, his tone unfalteringly cold as always. Harry was again conflicted and almost asked Lupin to give Snape a break. Almost.

The fire glowed again before Snape could answer and soon Professor McGonagall was dusting herself down near the hearth.

"What does he think?" McGonagall asked, as brusque as a military general.

"I've yet to explain the situation," said Snape.

"What situation?"

"The Dark Lord has attempted to subjugate Potter," said Snape. "He sent the Auror, Simpkins to attempt a crystal implant. Luckily, Miss Granger was alert to the danger and Stunned him before he could do any real damage."

Harry looked at Hermione with a reverence bordering on worship. There wasn't a name for the deep shade of red her skin now took on. Her mother seemed to notice and smiled warmly at Harry as she looked between him and her daughter.

"What happened?" Lupin went on.

"It seems the Dark Lord was attempting to lure Potter to him with the threat of holding Miss Grangers parents hostage as the inducement. He knew Potter would go to their aid and he would have easily picked him off."

Both David and Catrin Granger gasped at this news. Hermione squeezed her mother's arm for reassurance.

"We had to ensure they were still safe with you, Remus," said Professor McGonagall. "Now that we are sure, we must decide how to use this new information."

"Use it?" asked Harry. "How?"

Snape looked at him firmly. "The Dark Lord has counted on your petulance and hot-headedness to run straight to him. He has not factored in the sensibility your relationship with Miss Granger has given you. It could be a fatal mistake."

"How so?"

"He has unwittingly given us his location," said Lupin, cottoning on. "Chances are he isn't _exactly_ where he claims. But he will be in the vicinity, waiting to pounce."

Harry understood instantly. "So if we could draw him out..."

Hermione, never one to be outdone on such stakes, was fast behind. "You can totally forget that idea. We are not using Harry as bait. Not with Voldemort himself as the enemy."

Harry was keen for the idea, but something checked him. It was Hermione, in his head this time, which quelled his rashness.

"Its a great opportunity, but it wont work," he said. "We still have to find the last Horcrux. Helga Hufflepuff's cup or whatever. No point going for Voldemort if we haven't taken that out."

"But if we can coax him away from his snake..." said Snape, softly.

Harry started. There was merit in that idea.

Hermione was suddenly animated, anxious. She disentangled herself from her mother and crossed the room to Harry, tucking up next to him and taking his hand.

"I've told you once, no," she said to Snape. She was so cross, but so resolutely determined. She might have been scolding her child for stealing a cookie.

"There could be a way," said Lupin. "Decoy Harry's. Polyjuice. The real Harry could dart about, use Parseltongue. Find the snake and cut the damned things' head off while You-Know-Who chases dummies."

"Yes, Yes!" Harry cried triumphantly. "I'm in."

"Then I'll be a decoy Harry."

Harry spun to Hermione. When he spoke he felt it was his most serious tone ever. "No you will not."

" _Yes,_ I will, Harry," she said firmly. "If you do this, so do I. You go into danger, I'm right there with you. That's the deal."

Harry looked at her. There would be no arguing. He didn't dare look at her parents, to see what they made of all of this. But the plan was set, the chance too good to miss.

"Okay," said Harry, slowly. "Just don't use _Expelliarmus_ in a fight. He think's its my signature move. He'll go for you."

Hermione stepped close to him, took his head firmly in her hands and kissed him tenderly. When she looked at him, she had the expression of a lioness guarding her mate.

"Oh, Harry. I have no intention of disarming Voldemort. He's trying to kill you. So I'm going beat him to the curse."


	24. The Battle of Little Hangleton

Harry couldn't remember being so frightened. It consumed him, robbed him of the ability for cognitive thought. He paced around, borderline frantic, trying to plead his case.

But Hermione was having none of it.

"I don't want you there," Harry said. He had said it a number of times already.

"I don't want _you_ there," she replied stubbornly.

"But I have to be there."

"Then so do I."

The argument was pointless. It had no solution that either party would like. Voldemort had dangled his hand in front of them. Harry was about to go and bite it and Hermione was going to be at his side fighting from the front. She wouldn't have it any other way. But the danger was immense and Harry couldn't think straight for the danger.

"Just promise me you wont take any unnecessary risks," Harry pleaded.

Hermione looked at him shrewdly. "Fine. I can promise you _that._ But if the risk is _necessary_ then I'll be taking it."

Harry was nonplussed. "Don't be funny. This is serious."

Hermione stopped her preparations and crossed the room to him. She took his face in her hands and he nuzzled into her touch.

"I know how serious this is, that's why we're doing it. But no-one is going to be in more danger than you. And if you think I'm just going to sit here and stand for it then you've got me all wrong, dear."

She kissed him softly. Harry ached at the lingering sensation.

"I just don't like this at all," said Harry. "We don't even have a proper plan."

Hermione grinned at him. "When have we ever had a plan? We always tend to fly by the seats of our pants and hope for the best. Its the unpredictability that makes us dangerous."

"Only to ourselves," said Harry darkly. He didn't think this was the time for jokes.

Hermione sensed his anxiety. She took his hands again. "Listen, Snape and Lupin and McGonagall are meeting with the Auror Heads as we speak. By the time we leave tonight they'll know what to do. We have to trust them."

"The only person I trust is you," said Harry. He leaned in and kissed her. She returned his kiss before snaking her arms around his neck. Harry folded into her embrace.

Suddenly, the fireplace erupted in green flames. The stark living room of 12 Grimmauld Place was thrust into eerie emerald relief. Ron fell out of the flames and hurried to the quickly.

"What the hell? I've just come from the Ministry. Dad tells me you're going after You-Know-Who tonight. Is it true?"

Harry nodded.

"Blimey," said Ron, his voice awestruck. "Are you scared?"

"Bloody terrified, mate," said Harry. "Don't suppose you'd be able to convince Hermione not to come along?"

Ron stared at Hermione. "You're going too?"

"Yes," Hermione replied simply. "And if you even attempt a word of complaint I'll cast a Tongue-Tying Curse on you so powerful you'll never fully get rid of the knots."

Ron opened his mouth, then closed it again quickly. Harry shook his head at him.

"Thanks for the support."

"Well, you heard her," Ron argued fairly. "Would you mess with her after that?"

Harry looked at Hermione. He chanced a small smile. "Well, no. Probably not."

"What's your plan then? Where's You-Know-Who holed up?"

" _Voldemort_ is at his old family manor," said Hermione, her tone impatient with Ron's continued aversion to the Dark Lord's name. "We are going there to try and draw him out."

"Great plan," said Ron. "How do you expect to do that?"

"I'm going to be bait," said Harry simply.

"What!"

"Well, not _Harry_ , really," Hermione went on. "There are going to be a few of us pretending to be Harry -"

"- which I don't want you to be -"

" - which I've already told you isn't up for debate -"

Harry and Hermione stopped talking to glare at each other. A steely look reflected in each others' eyes. Neither would give an inch, so they abandoned the argument.

"What...are you saying that there will be more than one Harry?" asked Ron. "Polyjuice or something I suppose?"

"Something like that," said Harry. "While they all run around trying to get themselves killed in my place I have to go and find that sodding snake and lop its head off."

"Aww, I wanted to do that," said Ron, disappointed. "I don't know why, but I always thought the snake would be killed last."

"Me too," said Harry. "But this opportunity has some up and we have to try."

"There's no use in going directly for Voldemort until his Horcruxes are destroyed," said Hermione. "The snake, and the Hufflepuff artefact - which we assume is some sort of cup, according to the literature - are all that's left."

"Then there's just the small matter of out-duelling the most powerful wizard on the planet," Ron pointed out.

"Voldemort isn't the most powerful wizard alive," said Hermione simply.

Harry looked sideways at her. "Oh really? Know someone else, do we?"

"Well, yes," said Hermione. "You."

Harry laughed out loud.

"What's funny?" asked Hermione. She seemed utterly serious.

"Me?" Harry scoffed. "I'm more powerful than Voldemort?"

"Of course you are," said Hermione patiently, as though it were a universally known fact.

"When did that happen?" asked Harry sarcastically. "I must have missed it."

Hermione set down the bag she was packing. She turned to Harry. "How many times have you escaped Voldemort?"

Harry sighed. "Escaping isn't the same as being better than."

"Why not? He hasn't been able to beat you, has he?"

Harry went to argue but Hermione's logic was flawless as always. He wondered to himself if she was right. Five times he'd managed to escape Voldemort. Five. Two more than his parents, or the powerful Auror couple that was the Longbottoms. He'd never considered the enormity of the feat before. He'd survived the killing curse twice. Before him no-one in history ever had. Was he actually that special?

Hermione looked at him as the possible comprehension crossed his eyes. Her look said plainly " _see, I told you so."_

Ron was coming to the same conclusion. "You know, Harry, Hermione might just have a point. I mean, I just thought she was saying that because she's madly in love with you and a bit biased and everything. But actually, she might be right."

"Not you, too!" Harry complained. He felt pressure building on his hitherto latent power that he had little idea how to access.

"Well think about it," said Ron. "You survived as a baby, and I know you had a lot of help from your Mum but you still survived. Then you channelled Gryffindor's spirit to kill that Basilisk in the Chamber of Secrets. Then you beat off like a thousand Dementors with one Patronus. And then matched, if not bested, You-Know-Who for spell power when you duelled after the Triwizard. You were miles ahead of all of us in the DA, too. Hermione might be right about you, I think."

"You're forgetting that Harry also has the capacity for wandless magic," said Hermione.

"Now what are you on about?" asked Harry.

"You have made glass disappear, regrown your hair, inflated your aunt, all without a wand."

"Or any control, don't forget," said Harry. "I didn't mean any of those things."

"Perhaps not, but you still did them," said Hermione. "How many things like that have you done, Ron?"

"Er...the grand total of none," said Ron.

"I thought as much," said Hermione. "I haven't either."

"But something must have happened to you before Hogwarts?" said Harry. "You must have known you were different to other kids."

"I grew up in a magic family," said Ron fairly. "Magic was the norm for me."

"And as for me, it wasn't anything so dramatic," said Hermione. "I could sort of _feel_ I was different rather than anything I did. Almost like I could sense the magic as a sort of energy that other people didn't. It wasn't until I got my wand that I was ever really able to do anything."

"And now there isn't anything you _can't_ do," said Harry, smiling at her. "But none of this makes me particularly special. Or as powerful as Voldemort. I couldn't do any of the things he can, or duel with him like Dumbledore did."

"That's just down to study," said Hermione. "As I've told you before. How can you be expected to duel like that if you've never studied or practiced it? Magical Combat Arts are high-level skills, and like any skill you have to work at it. You started earlier in the year but you stopped ages ago."

"Then after all this you can help me get back to it," said Harry. "Lets just get tonight out of the way. You have got Rowena's Wand, yes?"

Hermione nodded. "It's here. I don't know if it will work but I have it."

"Have you worked out how to make use of it?" asked Ron.

"It's only a theory," said Hermione. "But I'm thinking I can cast stronger spells if I use it and my wand together. I've only tried a couple of simple spells but it seems to have an effect. There must be more to it than that, though. Gryffindor and Slytherin were rivals - its obvious that the Sword can be used as a physical weapon against Voldemort. But the Wand...its not so clear, but I think it must go beyond simple spell power. I'll have to do more research into Ravenclaw and her relationship to Slytherin to get some ideas."

"But for now more powerful spells will do," said Harry. "Anything that keeps you safer."

They were disturbed as the fire lit up again. A single sliver of parchment flew out of the hearth. Harry stepped forward and caught it. He unfurled it. It contained just one line.

_Its time. Report to Shacklebolt's Office._

Harry handed the note to Hermione. She tensed as she read it. She had to swallow twice before she spoke.

"Time to go," she said, her breath little more than a whisper. For the first time, she sounded a little afraid. The sound cut to Harry and intensified his own nerves.

"Last chance to stay," he said to her.

"There was never a chance of that," said Hermione.

"I had to try," said Harry.

"Come on, the others will be waiting," said Hermione. "Take care, Ron. We'll see you soon...hopefully."

Ron had gone extremely pale. He tried speech, but he could only mumble. Harry knew how he felt. He could only nod at him. A ball of fear was clogging his throat. Hermione took Harry's hand and led him to the fireplace. She threw a handful of Floo Powder into the flames and spoke their location into the embers. Harry gulped hard and followed Hermione into the green fire.

They emerged into a large circular office. Pictures of wanted Death Eaters were tacked to every available wall space. The large desk at the centre was cluttered with reports and files. A table in the far corner was whirring away with an array of instruments that Harry could only guess at the use of. If he'd had time. For the room was full of people staring impatiently at him.

"Welcome, Mr Potter."

The deep voice of Kingsley Shacklebolt reverberated around the room. He crossed to Harry and shook his hand, before politely bowing at Hermione. Behind him, a small army of Aurors were crammed into the room, along with Severus Snape.

"Hello Mr Shacklebolt," said Harry. "Where are McGonagall and Lupin."

"Headmistress McGonagall had a school to manage," said Kingsley. "And Remus has returned to his guard duty. We can handle the operation from here. Mr Snape has insisted on joining us, and his knowledge of the Death Eaters and their tactics could prove decisive."

"Do we have a firm plan?" asked Hermione.

"Our target is that snake of You-Know-Who's," said Kingsley. "Snape has explained to me about the Horcruxes. The enemy is impervious now, until those tethers to his life are removed. If the snake is one, it must be killed.

"This is where you come in, Mr Potter. I understand you speak Parseltongue? Then you can also hear it. Listen for it, follow it, and when you can, kill Nagini. Our task will be to draw You-Know-Who away to give you your chance. No doubt he will have set all sorts of traps for us, too. The risk is huge, but this is war. It isn't supposed to be easy."

"How do you plan to draw him out?" asked Harry.

"Lupin's plan of decoy versions of yourself is valid," said Kingsley. "But to use more than one would quickly give the game away. The best chance of getting to the snake is for You-Know-Who to think he's in control for as long as possible. We have to make him think the decoy you is doing exactly as he wants."

"That's too dangerous," said Harry. "He might try to kill the decoy on sight."

"We think that's unlikely," said Snape, who had stepped forward. "The Dark Lord doesn't simply want to kill you. He wants to _beat_ you, to have you broken down so as a display of his victory over you. He hates the fact that your defiance of him has caused people to question his power. Killing you isn't enough, he wants to humiliate you, hurt you, break you first."

"Then we aren't doing this, the risk is too high...for anyone."

Harry turned to look forcibly at Hermione. He could see the determination on her face. He knew innately, if it came to a vote, she would volunteer. Harry wouldn't allow that.

"It wont get that far," said Kingsley. "Right now, as we speak, Agents from the Elite Auror Corps are setting up an area around the Riddle Manor. Sniper-Aurors will be in position before we even arrive. We wouldn't send anyone into such a situation so wantonly."

"Then let me go," said Harry. "I'll do it."

"No," said Hermione quickly. "You can't. You're too important. Besides, we need you to find Nagini. I'll go. I'll be the decoy."

"Absolutely not," Harry protested. "I thought I said -"

"I _know_ what you said, Harry" Hermione cried passionately. "But it makes sense. I know you better than anyone. I can mimic your movements. I'll be a more convincing you than any of the Aurors."

"It has to be Miss Granger, in any case," said Snape. His voice was grave, quiet.

Harry snapped round to him. "And why's that?"

"We must assume that the Dark Lord will take precautions to make sure the person who shows up is really you. He is wily enough to suspect a plot like this. He will have means of testing you from afar. He needs to think it is you."

"But if its Hermione, he'll know its her!" said Harry. "So we abandon the plan."

"No," said Snape. "He can be hoodwinked into believing it is you. But only if Miss Granger goes."

"Why her?"

"Did you hear nothing of the connection between you I spoke of when I handed over Ravenclaw's wand?" said Snape impatiently. "Your relationship has given a part of each to the other, but I believe it goes far deeper than that. Far deeper than either of you currently realise. There is an element of you now inside Miss Granger. It could be used to trick the Dark Lord."

"What element?"

"Your _love_ , Potter," said Snape. "It has fused your souls together. It is a powerful force. I felt it directed at me when you believed I was a threat to Miss Granger. I was wary of it. If we can use it, we can make the Dark Lord fear it also."

"I'm not sure I understand," said Harry.

"No, but the Dark Lord doesn't either. There are other forces at work in this world besides evil and the will of Darkness. Love is its greatest foe. The Dark Lord knows about it, but not _of_ it beyond his lack of it, which leads him to hate in its absence. He disregards those things he doesn't understand. But it is a potent weapon, one more powerful than anything from his own arsenal."

"But what's the use in me having it if I don't know how to wield it?" asked Harry.

"That's something we must explore later," said Snape. "But for now we must use it as we can."

"How?" asked Hermione. "There are a lot of people in love, Professor Snape. Surely if love could be weaponised it would have been before now."

Snape looked firmly at Hermione, as though measuring her. "Not all people are you and Potter. As I said, there is more to your relationship that either of you truly understand. For the Heirs of Gryffindor and Ravenclaw to emerge at the same time, a time where the Heir of Slytherin threatens the world, and for them to unite in as many ways as you have...I do not believe in foolhardy concepts such as chance. There is more to the situation than that."

Harry was confused, not only at Snape's words but the understanding he and Hermione seemed to be sharing on the subject. She was now looking at Harry with such beaming radiance that he felt dwarfed by her affection, as though it were a heat trying to melt him.

"So, what's your plan Snape?" asked Kingsley. "I am cautious to defer to you completely but I am prepared to hear your thoughts."

Snape turned to Kingsley, eyeing him coolly. "I should have thought by now my loyalties would have been made clear, Shacklebolt."

"There will always be an element of restraint where you are concerned, Snape," Kingsley returned. "You are just that sort of man. You inspire caution. But I am taking a leap of faith...and we are all waiting."

"Miss Granger must be the decoy Potter," Snape began. "And to offset the obvious complaints by the _actual_ Potter, let me say that by being so she will be one of the safest people there."

"How so?" asked Kingsley.

"She is the owner of Ravenclaw's Wand," said Snape. "This Wand has unique properties, the most curious of which is a dual-core of phoenix feather and unicorn hair. Ollivander the Wandsmith told me that one of this wands' traits is the ability for it to take on the properties of another wand, almost like a sponge. I believe we can get the wand to mimic Potter's own for a while. And while it does, Miss Granger cannot be harmed. Potter's wand and the Dark Lord's own are brothers, they will not fight each other."

Comprehension now flared for Harry. "I get it. So if Voldemort's wand faces Hermione's, but thinks its mine, it wont work? Like that _priory incantatem_ thing."

"Crudely put, but largely accurate," said Snape. "Not only that however, for it has been known for brother wands to refuse to fight the _spouse_ of its brother, to the point of not working at all for Dark spells. If the Dark Lord's wand sees through any ruses of ours and recognises _that_ in Miss Granger, it is possible the Dark Lord will not be able to harm her with magic at all."

"Is that possible?" asked Hermione, slightly awestruck. She had clearly never come across this idea in any textbook. "Is our love really _that_ powerful?"

"That is something only you two can answer," said Snape simply.

Hermione looked over at Harry again and their gazes met with such a fierce connection that Harry almost lost his balance. The answer for them both was clear. They knew it instantly by the look in the other's eyes. He loved her. She loved him back, equally intense. They weren't regular people. They were special, so their love was special. And it was intertwined with all sorts of fate and destiny and cosmic power it would seem. And in that moment Harry felt utterly humbled to have been blessed by having this incredible thing in his life, and the most perfect girl to share it with.

And he was steeled to destroy the forces that threatened her.

"Then let's get this done," said Harry. He calmly handed his wand to Snape, the last vestiges of his distrust fading fast. He didn't _like_ Snape, he never would. But he could comfortably stretch to trust now.

Snape took the wand, and Ravenclaw's wand as Hermione offered it to him. He placed them together, Ravenclaw's in his wand arm, and whispered the incantation.

" _Magicum Duplicare!"_

The wands glowed golden for a few seconds, then Snape handed them both to Harry.

"Feel them Potter," said Snape. "Do they share the same energy?"

Harry took both wands, holding one then the other. It was bizarre. He knew the feel of his own wand intimately, the warmth it spread through his fingers. Other wands always felt different. But now he had two of his own in his hands, and he felt sure in a blind test he'd never be able to tell them apart.

"They feel the same," said Harry. "If I wasn't looking I wouldn't know which was which."

"Good, then it has worked," said Snape. Harry handed Ravenclaw's wand back to Hermione. The effect was instant.

"Wow! That's...weird," said Hermione, marvelling at the sensations travelling up her arm. "It's like its you, Harry. Its like you're touching me or kissing me without even -"

She broke off quickly, blushing madly into the mane of her bushy hair. Even in the moment, Harry's heart melted at the cuteness of it.

"Only one thing left then," said Kingsley. He took a flask from his robe and offered it to Harry. He knew what to do. He pulled a few strands of hair from his head and added them to the potion, which bubbled and curdled as the black locks became part of it. The mixture was now a smooth reddish purple.

"You look tasty, Harry," said Hermione mildly as she took the Polyjuice potion from him.

"You will need these," said Kingsley. He handed Hermione a set of clothes that were about Harry's size. She was about to swallow the potion when Harry suddenly took out his wand.

"What are you doing?" asked Hermione.

"I'm going to Disillusion you," said Harry. "I'm not having anyone see you naked...or _me_ naked for that matter. Hold still."

Harry tapped her gently on the head with his wand. The effect was instant. He could tell from the way Hermione shuddered, recognising the sensation of icy cold water trickling through the veins. Then she was practically invisible, a human chameleon, little more than a shimmering hue against the background. The hue moved and shifted, changed shape as Hermione's dainty form was replaced by Harry's taller and fuller one. Then she was moving again, shedding her clothes as she changed.

"You can lift the Charm now, Harry."

A fair approximation of his own voice spoke back to him from the spot where Hermione was standing. Harry tapped her head again with his wand and his own facsimile came into view. It was a stark experience. He didn't realise how unruly his hair had become. It definitely needed a cut.

"Wow, Harry, I never realised quite how bad your eyesight is," said Hermione. "I can barely see you."

"I can see me well enough," said Harry grumpily as he considered his Polyjuiced image. "You aren't missing much."

Hermione gave him what would have been a comforting-cum-teasing scrunch of her face, but on Harry's features it merely looked like an awkward grimace.

"Here, take these," said Kingsley. He handed Hermione a pair of glasses identical to Harry's.

"Ooh, that's better," said Hermione. She walked up to Harry and made as if to kiss him or embrace him. He recoiled.

"Sorry, but that's just _too_ weird," said Harry quietly to Hermione's questioning, slightly hurt look.

"Right, everything seems to be ready," said Kingsley. He pointed to a spot on a map laid out on his desk. "There is an Apparition point here. We will go in pairs to not arouse attention. Snape and I will go first, then the two Potters. Give us ten seconds before you follow. Ready?"

Harry and well, _Harry_ , nodded their compliance. Snape and Kingsley stepped into the centre of the room, span on the spot and vanished. Harry and Hermione took their place and, after waiting as told, followed suit.

They emerged at the edge of a small hamlet. The village square was visible in the near distance. A large, white marble memorial stood on a plinth at the centre of a small earthen mound at its heart. Red poppies encircled the square top. All were suffused with the light of the moon, which was poking through low, scudding clouds as they broke and passed overhead. A row of single-storey whitewashed houses lined one side of the square, some with lit windows and others in complete darkness. A single road led from where Harry stood into the square. Beyond it, on a hill overlooking the village, a near-derelict manor house loomed large and imperious as though surveying the scene.

It didn't strike you as the location for the epic magical battle about to take place.

Harry shuddered as he looked at the house, remembering the last time he was here. His bones ached in agreement, as though conscious that they'd never fully recovered from the sinew-splitting agony of the Cruciatus Curse. Hermione, next to him, sensed the surge in his anxiety, the dip in his spirits. She took his hand, but it was jarring rather than comforting. The duplicate of his own skin was not nearly as welcome as the cool, soft flesh he was used to from Hermione's hands.

"Welcome to Little Hangleton," said Kingsley.

"Time is now of the essence," said Snape. There were small _pops_ behind them as the other Aurors joined them. "The Dark Lord will have ways of knowing you are here, Potter. We will need to show for him soon. If Miss Granger is ready?"

Harry looked at Hermione, his own pale, scared reflection looked back at him. But there was determined steel in his borrowed emerald eyes.

"I'm ready," said Hermione.

"Remember - no unnecessary risks," said Harry. "Once he sees you and the fighting starts, I want you to get somewhere safe. No arguments. Promise me."

Hermione opened her mouth to argue, but the power of Harry's stare stilled her protests.

"Okay. I promise."

"The plan is this," said Kingsley. "You-Know-Who will try to bait you with your parents, or whoever he has in their place. Its callous, but we can't help them. Unless of course, he uses a couple of his Death Eaters to stand in for them. Either way, all we are here to do is draw him out into the fight. Potter is right, Miss Granger. Once that starts, I want you to get back here as soon as you can. It will bring the Death Eaters right to us and you can escape if it goes badly."

"In the meantime, Potter, you have to make finding the snake your only priority," said Snape. "If I know your arrogance, you will try and get involved in the fighting as soon as the first spell is cast. _You must resist that urge!_ You are here for another purpose. Stick to it, or all the risks being taken will be for nothing."

"I'll do what I have to," said Harry. "But Hermione's safety is my only priority. Killing the snake it just another part of that."

"That's all well and noble but -"

"HARRY POTTER! I KNOW YOU ARE HERE! DISPLAY YOUR FAMED COUARGE AND SHOW YOURSELF!"

Voldemort's voice, magically modified boomed out around them. Harry threw his hands up to his ears, as though the sound were physically painful. He had a wild, fleeting sense that he wasn't hearing the voice through his ears, but more from inside his own head. The sensation lingered for several seconds after the words faded.

"Time to go," said Hermione. "And Harry - just be _careful!"_

"You too," said Harry. "I'll see you soon."

He hoped his tone was reassuring, but he didn't feel it himself. He watched her go, a knot of nausea clenching his gut, which lurched horribly. His fear for her was so profound that he could barely hold himself from running to her.

"Potter, go!" Snape hissed.

Harry nodded, cast a Disillusionment Charm on himself and darted away from the group.

His initial idea was to skirt the outside of the village and make his way to the house. It seemed the logical place to start. He made his way to the line of houses, which were flanked by a copse of trees at one end and the border of the hill at the other. Harry looked back one more time. Hermione was out of sight. His heart was lodged firmly in his throat now and the sensation made him feel sick.

_She'll be alright, she'll be alright,_ he repeated to himself. _It's Hermione. She'll be fine. Find the snake. Kill the snake._

Harry took a steadying breath and made his way into the trees. They were denser than he imagined. It was much darker in here and Harry gripped his wand firmly. He couldn't hear anything. The low whistle of the wind was lost in here, smothered by the palpable darkness. Even his footsteps had no sound, muffled against the damp detritus of the woodland floor.

Harry stole along, hoping he was still heading in the right direction. Just as he was beginning to panic at getting lost, the trees began to thin and Harry could see the unmistakable outlines of a shed and a washing line. The back garden of the first house. He hurried more quickly now and soon reached the low wall of the garden. He followed it to the left, where a lane ran the length of the row of houses. Harry sprinted along it and a few minutes later found himself facing the fence of the farms at the base of the hill, with that ugly house now clearer up above him.

Then it happened.

A blast of red light issued forth from the top of the hill, aimed at the village square. Harry couldn't see that around the houses blocking his view, but an odd flash of gold responded to the red and gilded the white perimeter fence where Harry looked along it. He couldn't imagine what might have caused that, but didn't have time to dwell as jets of different coloured lights began sparking from every direction, and a chorus of angry cries shattered the still night air.

For a few minutes, Harry was stood transfixed by the sight, one leg still halfway over the fence. He seemed unable to move. The amount of curses being cast...Hermione had better have done as she was told and gotten somewhere safe. The initial bursts were replaced by more controlled fire as the battle settled. Harry was stirred to task again. They were doing this to give him his shot. He couldn't let them down.

He vaulted the fence and scrambled up the hill. His heart thudded in his ears, making it difficult for him to listen out for enemies or the hiss of Nagini's tongue. He reached the crown of the hill and crouched down low behind a line of thick bushes. He looked back towards the village. It was quite the spectacle. Flashes of light, sparks, the monument on the plinth shattered and on fire. It might have looked like a party or celebration, if it weren't for the dark, motionless masses Harry could see even from here.

Bodies.

Harry almost cried out. What if Hermione's was one of them? No, it wasn't possible. He would know, he'd have felt it. Besides, she wouldn't do that to him. She'd promised...

Harry couldn't think for the fears the possibilities stirred. Action would be the only thing to keep him on track. He darted out from behind the bush and hurried up to the house. There seemed to be no Death Eaters here. Harry could feel a dull throb in his scar, but he'd felt that ever since he'd arrived. Voldemort was close by. Harry wondered if he dared speak Parseltongue, try to coax Nagini out. But wouldn't Voldemort hear it too? Harry couldn't risk that. He would have to do this the old fashioned way.

The back door to the house was open. Harry eased himself inside. The chill of the air caught in his throat and hitched his breath. He moved along the moth-eaten carpet of the corridor from the kitchen, listening hard against his shallow breathing. He wasn't sure how he knew, but he was fairly confident the house was empty. It just felt wrong, like he shouldn't be here, as if his quarry was somewhere else. It emboldened him and he moved more surely through the empty rooms, ignoring creaky staircases and whiny old door hinges. But there was nothing here. No Voldemort, no Nagini. But then...

_Arghhhh!"_

A crippling, searing pain shot through Harry's chest, striking him so badly that he fell to the floor clutching at his heart. Then another, then another. He was writhing in pain, contorting and convulsing. But he didn't draw his wand. He knew it was pointless. He was quite alone, there was no-one to curse. This didn't comfort him, but instead imbibed him with a terror so utterly complete that tears shot out of his eyes like projectiles. For the pain he was experiencing wasn't his own, he wasn't being attacked.

Hermione was.

He knew it as surely as if the pain was in his own body. She was being attacked, and hurt badly. Harry got up and tried to Apparate, but he couldn't. The house wasn't letting him. It had been jinxed. Harry ran as fast as he could, vaulted the bannister and practically hurled himself down the staircase and out of the door. He ran into a Death Eater there, no doubt alerted to an intruder at the house. The force of Harry's curse threw him twenty feet away and tumbling down the hill. A second later Harry was able to Apparate and was at Hermione's side.

Or, at least, looking down at her prone body.

Harry registered that she was motionless for only a fraction of a moment. He couldn't process what that meant. In any case, the giant snake looming over her, fangs bared, drew his attention...and the sword in his belt. A swipe, a _swish_ that cut the air and the head of the giant serpent flew off to the right with a sickening spurt of dark blood that covered both Harry and Hermione, still laying unmoving on the floor below.

Harry threw the sword aside with clang, ignoring a second piercing shaft of pain that cut through him. Dully, somewhere in the depths of his concious mind, he could feel Voldemort's ire as he registered the destruction of another piece if his tainted soul. But Harry had no mind for that. A whine of panic in his head had robbed him of cognizant thought. He almost couldn't bring himself to look down.

But he did.

Hermione was sprawled out on the floor, back to her own body, her limbs at odd, unnatural angles. Her beautiful face was scarred and cut with multiple wounds. There was an astonishing pool of blood around her body. Harry couldn't breath for looking at it. His heart had stopped. The world was ending beneath his feet. Hermione's eyes were closed, she looked peaceful. It didn't look so bad. It might not hurt very much after all. Harry dropped to his knees, ready to fall down and die right beside her.

He took up the sword again...and pointed it to his chest, where his unbeating heart was waiting...

Then there was commotion. Something heavy and firm collided with Harry's right side, knocking the sword away. Then he was being hauled to his feet. The action jerked him back to the moment, and the world rushed at him like a movie in fast forward.

And he howled. A guttural roar of anger and fury and raw, unadulterated misery.

_Hermione was dead_.

And there was nothing for it. Harry kicked and tore at the powerful arms holding him, breaking free and rushing forward. Then he was hauled back again, by one then more. Another roar and they were thrown bodily away from him. Harry heard gasps, the display of his mindless power barely registering with him. He had no thought but to reach Hermione, to die with her before she was too far away.

"Restrain him!"

The voice cut to Harry. It was familiar, in a world now alien.

"We're trying, Snape!" called another voice. "But we can't hold him! What's he doing?"

"Combusting, at a guess," said Snape. "But I can't help her if Potter smothers me."

Help? How could you help a dead person? Dumbledore said there was no magic..."

" _She isn't dead...yet."_

Harry heard Snape's voice inside his head. It stilled him. He had never heard that tone try to reassure him, never sought hope there before. But he clung to it now, like a last tether to life.

" _Let me help her...hold off the Death Eaters."_

Death Eaters? Harry _felt_ them before he saw them. It was as though he were newly in tune with the world. He felt every nuance, every whisper on the air. He leapt up, unbridled rage coursing through every fibre of him. He wheeled around before the assembled Aurors even knew anything washappening.

_"Stupefy Maxima!"_

A spell of such power erupted from Harry's wand that even the Aurors stepped back in shock. An arc of pure gold swept from him like the waves of a fierce tsunami. Four Death Eaters, who were charging over the crest of the hill towards the Auror staging area, were hit simultaneously and flew backwards fifty feet, smacking into the ground with sickening, but satisfying, thuds. Harry advanced, only to see a rear party turn on their heels and flee back towards to the direction of safety. Of Voldemort. Harry was about to give chase.

Then he had a better idea.

Feeling emboldened, and powerful beyond the telling of it, he closed his eyes. He breathed deeply, focused hard. He let his mind open, to free itself, to fly off and find his prey. It wasn't so much direction, Harry didn't know where he was going. But there was a dark vibration on the air. Harry let his mind follow it and suddenly it was there, face to face with Lord Voldemort's.

Harry punched through the black resistance as though it were nothing. Like with his Patronus years ago, he knew instinctively how to do it. He felt the surge of surprise, of fury at the invasion. Harry took another breath.

_This is for you, Tom._

Then Harry raced to Hermione's side, feel to his knees in her blood. He watched Snape rapidly mutter incantations, trying to seal her wounds. Harry took her hand in his. It was limp, cool to the touch. He savoured its softness, remembered all the times it had held his own, joyously revelling at the memory. A tear fell from his sealed eyes, splashed down onto the skin between them. Harry moved his thumb to smooth it away. His despair wouldn't besmirch her perfection.

Then he felt it. A gentle throb beneath his thumb.

A heartbeat.

A wave of relief and love and pure euphoria engulfed Harry. Its intensity threatened to overcome him. It swelled in his chest and set his heart to tumultuous hammering beneath his rib cage. He held it in, tensed with it, let it wash over him again and again. And all the while he felt similar surges of pure agony coursing through the body of Lord Voldemort. Wherever he was, he was writhing in excruciating torment. If Harry could just hold the connection a little longer...

"Potter! Get to your feet!"

Snape's command was furiously serious. It didn't occur to Harry not to obey.

"We need to get Granger to St Mungo's right now," said Snape. "Get the Sword and her wands. This battle is not over."

Harry did as he was told. Snape conjured a floating bed out of thin air and levitated Hermione's body onto it. Harry saw with unrestrained elation the rise and fall of Hermione's lungs. He marked the beat like an orchestral conductor. Snape looked at Harry, nodded once, then he and the bed-prone Hermione Disapparated away. Harry turned, surveyed the devastated little village with callous disinterest, then disappeared in a whirl of colour and concern.


	25. The Power He Knows Not

Harry stared around the darkened ward. Ron was slumbering in a chair near the window. Harry was glad he was there. He didn't think he could have faced the last few hours without his first friend for support. He was happy to let him sleep, unless he started to snore. Though it might help to wake Hermione, who was showing no signs of coming round after her attack.

Harry watched her intently as she slept. He marked the passage of the night in the rise and fall of her chest, the subtle pulse at her neck, eyes glued for any signal that she might suddenly become more cogent. For so far she had steadfastly refused to come back to him. The Healers were confident they had contained the poison from the snake bites and that the antidotes were working well. Hermione was in no immediate danger.

But they couldn't get her to wake up.

"This isn't unusual where Dark Magic is concerned," Healer Pye had reassured Harry. "We have seen many cases likes this before. Sometimes we just have to be patient and wait. Though, I know, this can be the hardest thing for a loved one to do."

He wasn't wrong. Harry had spent hour after pensive hour sat at Hermione's beside, holding her hand and just watching. He had angrily refused entreaties from several sources to try and get some rest himself. How could he sleep? What if Hermione woke and needed something from him? It was nonsense to even suggest it. Besides, Harry had a lot to think about.

The Battle. He had run it over and over in his mind. Looking at it, he felt he should have been more attuned to Voldemort's strategy. It seemed too neat to him that Hermione had been the one attacked, while he was allowed to move unfettered through the battlefield right to the enemy HQ. He could only come to one conclusion. It hadn't been him Voldemort wanted.

Hermione had been the target all along.

The thought chilled Harry right to his marrow. His skin prickled with an angry electricity. He felt his magic drifting on his fingertips as though ready to erupt out and strike anything in sight. They had been tingling ever since the spell he had cast back in Little Hangleton. The power of it still shocked him a little. He could see that wide arc of golden light, the buzz of magic that ignited on the evening air. He hadn't known he was capable of anything like it. But he was as wary of it as he was impressed with himself.

But the thought of Voldemort directly targeting Hermione was a more pressing concern. It was the fruition of one of Harry's greatest fears. Voldemort using Hermione as a conduit to hurt him. There was none greater. Harry was mindless for the danger he'd put her in, his thoughts a convoluted mess as he considered how close he'd come to losing her. He should have known better, been firmer to keep her away from any trouble.

Though he knew such thoughts were pointless. Hermione was the strongest person he knew, and the one who loved him most in the world. He could no more have kept her in the background, while he faced danger, as she could have him if the roles were reversed. It was just the pitfall of being lovers as well as comrades-in-arms. He was simply angry with himself for not seeing her vulnerability and failing to protect her. He should never have left her side.

His dark mood of self-loathing was interrupted by the door to the private ward opening. The wiry figure and lank hair of Severus Snape was framed against the light from the corridor behind, giving him a distinct vampire-like appearance. Their gazes met and Harry gave silent permission for this one-time target of hatred to enter the room. He could hold nothing against this man now. His quick actions and expert knowledge had saved Hermione's life. Harry owed him a debt for it.

Snape moved to stand at the foot of the bed, careful not to overstep the space around Hermione that Harry was guarding with fierce diligence. "Is there any change in Miss Granger's condition?"

Harry sighed in resigned frustration. "None. She is stable, but not improving. There was more to that snake than just venom."

"The Dark magic of Tom Riddle was inherent in the creature," said Snape. "Even I could feel it. The Horcrux wielded a power over the creature, imbibed it with a particular kind of evil. One Miss Granger is now the the victim of."

"I should have seen it coming," said Harry ruefully. "You were right about my arrogance. I should have known he would go for her to get to me. I thought only about myself."

"The plan was a joint effort, our strategy was sound," said Snape. "In any case, I don't think the Dark Lord targeted Miss Granger just for her connection to you. I think he singled her out as a viable threat in her own right. Her connection to Rowena Ravenclaw should not be ignored."

"You think he knows about that?"

"I do now," said Snape. "I think I missed it before, but I am now convinced the Wand of Ravenclaw is the final Horcrux the Dark Lord made."

Harry started, shocked by the words. "How is that possible? I've known about all the others, felt them like a vibration. I've never had that with the Wand."

"I fear that your connection to Miss Granger may mask its signature for you," Snape mused. "That defence mechanism created by your mother's sacrifice is clearly not as powerful as your feelings for Miss Granger. In addition, your connection may make the Wand recognise you as an ally also, giving you its allegiance and coating the Darkness within. I, however, can see through it. It has evil in its core. I didn't sense it until the Dark Lord was close. But now I think what has happened is clear."

"And what's that?"

"He knows when his Horcruxes are in danger," said Snape, pacing now. "He would have felt the destruction of the others, including the snake. He knows now that the Wand is all that remains. I believe he has thrown himself into it, possessing Miss Granger as it's owner, to protect it from attack. He is the reason we cannot wake her. He is within her, preventing her full recovery."

Harry felt his heart stutter a moment. He knew that feeling. Possession by Voldemort. The dark, creeping sensation, like a sickness you couldn't cure. Anger and rancid mania churning all at once. This was now coursing through Hermione's veins! The horror of it! Such darkness ought not touch something so pure. Harry wanted to scream, to cry out, to reach into Hermione and wrench Voldemort out for a final confrontation, for the reckoning they were both eager for.

"That _cant_ be true!" Harry cried, a little frantically. His voice woke Ron, who stirred and babbled incoherently.

"Yet I fear it is," said Snape simply. "It may not be all as bad as it seems, however."

"How can you say that!" said Harry. "Voldemort has _possessed_ Hermione! And I am unable to help her. I'd say I can think of little worse!"

"But it may be the Dark Lord's final, and fatal, mistake."

Harry was halted from his wild rant. Ron was alert already.

"Please explain how," said Harry, trying to calm his racing heart. He wasn't sure he could hold his consciousness together.

"If I am right, and the Dark Lord does now inhabit Miss Granger," Snape began, as Ron made potent noises of distress at the proclamation, "then we may be able to kill two birds with one stone. Finish this all in one go."

Harry was suddenly very stern, more serious than he had ever been in his life before. "If you are even _hinting_ at the suggestion that I kill Hermione -"

"No, that would lose us this opportunity," said Snape. "We very much need her alive."

"To do what?" asked Ron.

"Potter - you said that just after you cast that spell at the end of the battle you were able to possess the Dark Lord?"

"Yeah, I caused him pain," said Harry. "But how can that help Hermione?"

"Dumbledore told me of the events of your meeting the Dark Lord in the Department of Mysteries a few years ago. He said the Dark Lord was unable to possess _you,_ as you were so full of a force that he detests. One he underrates and doesn't understand."

"Yeah, Dumbledore said it was love."

"Indeed," said Snape. "And now it appears, due to your affection for Miss Granger, that you have learned to _weaponise_ it."

Harry knew instantly where Snape was going with this. Indeed, the idea had occurred to him during the battle. He had taken control of Voldemort's mind. Flooded him with love to the point of incapacitating him. Harry had felt that if he could have kept at it he might have finished Voldemort for good. Snape seemed to be suggesting the same.

"I know I was able to hurt him," said Harry. "But could I have actually killed him?"

"Perhaps not alone," said Snape. "But when combined with Miss Granger…it might have been enough."

"But - and stop me for being thick if you like," said Ron, "- but how can _love_ kill someone?"

"Love is equally a wondrous and terrifying force," said Snape. "Far more powerful than hate, which is fuelled by all things negative alone. Love is the most contrary and dangerous force in the universe. Capable of all things positive _and_ negative all at once. It is the mysterious and often irrational nature of love which makes it worth studying at the Department of Mysteries."

"But I wouldn't know how to use it as a weapon to ki…to kill," said Harry, baulking as the inevitable conclusion to this part of his story was now on the horizon.

"Of course you do," said Snape. "You've already done it. You just need to push it over the edge. Your love for Miss Granger - allied with her reciprocal feelings for you - creates a ball of positive energy that the Dark Lord will simply have no answer to. And he will have no idea how to break into the renewing cycle as the emotion passes between you. With him stupidly residing inside her, the object of your most potent and powerful emotions, he will be smothered by it. It will be his final destruction."

"That sounds like it will put her at risk," said Harry. "I wont do that."

" _You_ wont do anything," said Snape. "She will have to be the one to launch the attack. Right now you have to see her _as_ Voldemort. You will have to use your relationship to make her turn against him. Against herself, in a way. That will, I believe, trap him and he will have no escape."

"But she wont wake," said Harry. "If I have to face her, as you are suggesting, how am I supposed to do that?"

"The Dark Lord is essentially holding her hostage," said Snape. "But I doubt very much he would be able to resist a one-on-one confrontation with you. Especially since he is possessing your girlfriend's body. He will feel quite safe that you wont harm her, even to hurt himself."

"He's right about that," said Harry. "I wont risk her."

"But she would want you to."

"I don't care. I wont."

"You might have to! This may be your only chance of finishing him!"

"No!"

"He's right, Harry," said Ron quietly. Harry looked queerly at him, as though he'd just sprouted another head. "Hermione would be furious if she thought you'd wasted this chance. She'd risk - no, _take_ , - a minor injury to win this fight. She would have the courage, trust you enough to win the day and do all you can to keep her safe. And I've felt that energy between you. Its immense, incredible. V...Vol...V-voldemort will have no defence against it."

It was this, more than anything that stilled Harry's resistant protests. Ron saying Voldemort's name for the first time. He knew the courage it took Ron to say it. He was proud of him, empowered by his bravery. He knew Hermione would be, too. And that he was right about her on this.

"In any case," added Snape. "If its your love that will hurt the Dark Lord, it shouldn't do much more to Miss Granger than tickle her. He is _part_ of her now. You have to cut him away like a poisonous tumour. But she should be immune to the cure, perhaps even a component of it."

Harry sighed, resigned. He knew they were right. This was a golden opportunity. The risk had to be taken.

"Just tell me how to wake her."

Snape strode to the bedside table. He picked up Rowena Ravenclaw's old wand.

"Ravenclaw was famous for rebuking the advances of Salazar Slytherin," said Snape. "Invoking his ancestry in Tom Riddle should add to the powerful inducement of a final duel between you. The Wand is also a Horcrux. Using it should bring him forth."

Harry shivered fearfully. This was the moment, he knew it surely all of a sudden. Seven years of struggle, of worry and of fear. Of all that had gone on, all the people he had lost, and also gained, it all came down to this. Harry took a steeling breath for courage and slowly took the wand from Snape.

The first thing he knew immediately was that Snape had been completely right. The wand was packed full of dark energy. Harry was astonished by the potency of it, slightly amazed he hadn't noticed it before. He wasn't sure if he was powerful enough to repel it. He felt the full weight of the evil of Tom Riddle for perhaps the first time. This wouldn't be like the other times. This wasn't Harry against a fraction of Lord Voldemort. He would now face the real thing and all the horror that meant…and all in Hermione's body.

Harry took another rattling breath. "Leave me with her. Seal the room. Do not re-enter it till I come out. If I don't, then this will have gone badly. If that happens, try to find a way to be humane in dealing with Hermione…in whatever form is left of her."

Ron was utterly pale. All colour had drained from him. He tried to say something, anything, but words had failed him. He managed a curt nod of his head before sliding out of the room behind Snape, who said nothing at all. He seemed to realised that if Ron was unable to offer reassurance, his own words would likely have no impact either.

Harry heard Snape utter incantations outside the ward door. The air inside began to hum and tingle as though the room had been irradiated. Harry felt it clutch at his skin as the protection spells passed over him. It made him quiver. Then the sensation was gone.

It was time.

Harry couldn't think. His mind had gone completely. He was shaking so much he could barely hold the wand steady. Only the rhythmic beat of his heart kept him in the moment. He tried to focus on Hermione, to remind himself that this was as much to save her as it was to fight Voldemort again. That calmed him slightly, steeled his resolution. This was for _her,_ not for _him._ She needed rescuing. He needed her back. Together they would provide the force that ultimately defeated Lord Voldemort once and for all.

Harry raised the wand.

" _Enervate."_

He whispered the spell, before dropping the wand onto the bed as though it had just become a giant, hairy spider. He didn't take out his own wand, however. Which ever way this duel was going to play out, spell-casting was out of the question. He wouldn't turn his wand on the girl he loved, not for anything. The world be damned if he did. He stepped back.

Hermione began to stir on the bed. Her movements were not natural, not her own. Certainly not the ones Harry was used to. She was lithe, slithery, like a serpent uncoiling. Harry felt a similar knot tighten in his gut. He stepped back again. He was incomprehensibly afraid of Hermione in this form. He couldn't explain it. She was radiating waves of a nameless, super-charged energy, one that cut Harry right through to his very fibres. It held him still, frozen and paralysed.

Was this how Voldemort always won, Harry thought. This power hit his enemies like a venomous bite, rendering them numb, unable to defend themselves. Then he simply moved in for the kill. But, he thought, it hadn't been like that with his father. He'd been able to fight back. Voldemort, himself, even conceded that he'd fought bravely. His mother had been the same, throwing herself in front of the Killing Curse. They hadn't been to afraid to stand up to protect the ones they loved.

And, just like that, Harry was able to move again.

But Hermione was moving, too. She was standing now, facing him only a few feet away. Her eyes were completely black, their beautiful hazel hue disturbingly absent. And still those threatening movements, like a cobra sliding close to its prey. Harry tried to hold his ground.

"Hello, Harry," said Hermione. It was like talking to a ghost. Her voice was ethereal, distant, and eerily dark. "Aren't you going to kiss me? I want you."

"I don't think so," said Harry. "It really isn't the time."

"Don't you want this body?" said Hermione, sultrily running her hands over her curves.

"I do, but not while there are two of you in there. It might be a bit crowded."

"There's just me, Harry," Hermione swooned huskily. "Come on, take me now."

She lunged forwards but Harry side-stepped her expertly. It seemed to make her angry.

"Do not deny me," she hissed dangerously. "You don't want to make me angry, do you?"

"Why, what will you do?"

Hermione smiled, a twisted, vicious grin. "I'll hurt you. I hurt those who defy me."

"You wont hurt me," said Harry, more confidently than he felt. "You love me."

They were moving in a steady circle against each other now. Hermione kept making forward movements and Harry dodged her each time, keeping his distance.

"Do you really believe I love you?" Hermione laughed. It was a mirthless, high-pitched cackle. "Love is for fools. For the weak. I don't love. I take what I want. Sometimes, they can seem quite similar."

Harry tried not to be stung by Hermione's words. They weren't her own, he knew, but they still cut to his lingering fears about their relationship. He wasn't good enough for her, he always carried that. He worried one day she would work it out. Maybe this was Hermione's true feeling now showing on the surface. Harry's heart faltered at the thought, the possibility was chillingly real.

"You know if it wasn't for your fame and wealth I'd still be with Ron," said Hermione, her misty voice now icy to boot. "I've never stopped wanting him, either. I think about him all the time. About the mistake I made leaving him."

Harry felt like he was going to vomit. Reason was being driven from his head. His step faltered and he stumbled back against the door frame. Hermione seized her chance and pounced, pinning Harry against the woodwork. Her breath crashed into his cheek as her face pressed close to his. But it was rancid, musty and her skin was cold and clammy. It was like touching a reptile.

_This isn't her_ , Harry reminded himself. Snape was right. _This isn't Hermione. It just looks like her._

Sense revived, Harry slipped from under Hermione's arm, darting away from her marauding tongue, which was trying, snake-like, to lick his face. She span angrily to face him, rearing around so quickly that she might have rotated on a pivot.

_"Get back here!"_ Hermione hissed.

Harry stared, agape at her. She hadn't spoken in words, only a series of sharp, broken sounds.

"Parseltongue?" Harry whispered angrily. "You're trying to command me like one of your serpents? You need to do better than that, Tom."

For the first time, Hermione was the one who paused. "Tom? You dare call me that name?"

"I dare… _Tom_."

"That hurts me, Harry. That you would call me that filthy, Muggle tainted name."

"But you _are_ Muggleborn, Hermione," said Harry. "Your parents - your lovely, _Muggle_ parents - are waiting for you to make them safe. They have faith in you. And so do I."

Something flashed in Hermione's right eye. A shot of colour against the black. Harry wasn't wholly cheered. It looked red, more like Voldemort's corrupted pupils than Hermione's own. But it was something, and he was happy enough to coax Voldemort to the surface, if it would bring the confrontation between them to the fore.

"Do you remember _your_ parents, Tom?" asked Harry. Hermione snarled by way of response. "Yeah, I'm talking to you, Riddle. I know you're in there. So, do you? Did you enjoy killing them?"

"Yes," hissed Hermione, her voice high and icy again. "It gave me great satisfaction."

"I bet," said Harry. "It must have been vindicating, to get revenge on parents who had been so disappointed in raising such a twisted mess of a child."

Hermione let out a sort of shriek. It was piercing and Harry's felt a cold aura prickle across his skin.

"I wouldn't know how that feels, Tom," Harry went on. "My parents actually _loved_ me, you see. Then again, you know a bit about that. My mum bested you when you killed her."

"Bested me!" cackled Hermione, whose was sounding less and less like her her own tone. "I killed her, boy! And I enjoyed that, too."

"I'm sure you did," said Harry, surprised at how easy and conversational he was being, with his tremulous heartbeat pounding in his throat. "Poor old Tom, who liked killing people. Never occurred to you how twisted that is, eh? Poor old, _unloved_ Tom, who nobody wanted. Killing cos mummy and daddy didn't give him cuddle. Do you want a hug, Tom? Is that what this is all about? Do you want _me_ to give you a hug? Hermione likes my hugs, she can tell you all about them."

There was another flash in Hermione's eye as she let out an angry roar. She stumbled against the bed, throwing out a hand to steady herself. Harry was then struck with a poignant thought.

_She's in there. She's struggling against him. We're in this together._

And Harry felt his heart swell with such fierce emotion that he felt light-headed a moment. It was the embodiment of what Ron had said. Hermione was alive and well, not trapped by Voldemort but _fighting_ against him. Fighting doughtily from inside. Displaying a bravery and courage that would stir the hearts of even the most doubtful of resisters. Facing Voldemort, alone and yet not alone. For Harry was fighting with her.

We're in this together. She said she would go with him. Till the end. And here she was. _At it._

Harry felt such a deep love swirl within him it threatened to overloaded his senses. He looked at Hermione. He couldn't _see_ it coming back, but he felt it intensely. He _knew_ it was. Hermione was behind that shadow, looking back at him. Loving him as ferociously as he was her. Harry could almost picture it, a swirling whirlwind of golden emotion spinning around them.

And suddenly Voldemort wasn't there. He was nothing. Not a threat or a fear. His presence was insignificant, like a nonsense. It made Harry want to laugh. So he did, deep and belly-rocking. He felt tears before he knew it, spilling from his eyes as he shook with the laughter. He had been so afraid of this man, this dark legend. But now, facing him, with the power of his love for Hermione - and her's for him - igniting between them he was stunned at how pathetic and tiny Tom Riddle actually was.

And Harry felt embarrassed, insulted even, that he'd ever given this man the courtesy, the weapon of his own fear. But speaking of weapons…

Hermione suddenly picked up Ravenclaw's Wand from the bed, turned it at Harry. The sight made him laugh harder. Did he really think he could hurt him? It was as if a toddler had picked up a celery stick to use as a wand. The thought seemed to occur to Hermione, too, as she started to laugh with Harry. And it was _her_. Her voice, her sweet, honeyed tone. Harry's heart took flight at the sound.

"Avada Kedavra!"

The spell words were spoken as almost a question. Not for a moment did Harry feel an ounce of fear. Hermione had used Avada Kedavra on him before, and he'd been okay on that occasion. He was sure the spell wouldn't harm him now. A flash of silvery light erupted from the wand, hit Harry square in the chest and bounced right back, shattering the wand into a thousand useless pieces. The bit of Lord Voldemort let out another blood-curdling roar.

"That's the last time you use my voice, Riddle!" said Hermione, in her own voice, scandalised and angry. She turned to Harry. "Let's do this, sweetheart. Get into his mind, into _my_ mind! Lets finish him. Together."

"Tell me how."

"Just come here and kiss me."

Harry didn't need telling twice. He crossed this distance between them in two strides and pressed his lips to her own. They were soft, and warm again. They massaged each other passionately, parting only to duel tongues. All the while Harry thought only about how much he loved this girl. How he had always loved her, since the very beginning. How he would _always_ love her, no-one else, just her, for every day for the the rest of his life, and whatever lay beyond. Eternity together. The most perfect, the most _right_ , with no darkness to cloud their days.

And the best part? She wanted exactly the same. He knew it as surely as he'd ever known anything. The knowledge settled on him like warm sunshine. It covered him, coated them both like the sweetest syrup. Harry broke the kiss and just pulled her yet closer to him, holding her tight as though he'd never let go, basking in all the wonder and loveliness that was Hermione Granger.

And in that moment, as Harry and Hermione embraced for all their worth, Tom Riddle was utterly vanquished.

Harry couldn't have said how he was so sure, but there was no doubt in his mind. Something had lifted from the room, lifted from them both. Lifted from the world entirely. Lord Voldemort had been defeated. Not by spells, not by a kind of magic he would have expected. But by a power he knew nothing of.

"He's gone! Harry! He's gone!" cried Hermione, so incredibly gleeful that Harry felt her happiness in his own chest.

"I know! I know!" he sang out. "And its for good this time!"

They hugged and danced around entwined together, drowning in a kind of euphoria that Harry had never experienced before. He felt as if he and Hermione had left their bodies and were swimming together somewhere high above, watching themselves in amused delight.

"We did it, Harry!" said Hermione in wonder. "We actually did it!"

"Yeah, _we_ did…you and me. I can't believe its over."

"Oh, it isn't over, Harry," said Hermione, somewhat breathily. "This is where we can properly start."

Harry was suddenly feeling playful. It seemed inappropriate on one hand, but so totally right on the other, as Hermione eased him towards the bed.

"What did you have in mind?" he asked huskily.

"Well…" she began, a twinkle back in her restored-to-beautiful eyes. "All that fighting evil has got me ever so hot and bothered…"

"And I did tell Snape not to enter the room till I came…"

"That's so _filthy_ , Harry," said Hermione, sexily. "Talk to me like that a little more, will you? It _really_ gets me going."

Harry laid Hermione down shaking his head. He had a lot of things in mind that he was going to do with her…but talking was certainly not high on the list.

* * *

_Five Years Later._

Harry Potter had never been great at giving interviews. He had to, he knew that, and Hermione had been great at giving him support and tips on how to do it. He was getting better. He was the Saviour of the Wizarding World, whether he liked it or not. Well, one _half_ of that duo, and they both had grown to accept the social responsibility that came with the achievement. It was more an expectancy, and the public were demanding, but Harry and Hermione had at least managed to get things to a fair level.

One in-depth interview, once a year. On the anniversary of Voldemort's final defeat. Normally they would invite journalists only from respected Wizarding media. _The Daily Prophet, European Magical Gazette, International Times_ and the _Weekly World News_ were frequent invites, although this year entreaties had also been made to _Witch Weekly_ and _Miss Salem,_ so the room was a little busier than normal.

The questioning was usually the same, quite repetitive. It often made Harry wonder why they just didn't recycle his quotes from the previous year. Then he remembered the payments. Royalties from the interview would go nicely towards a new set of dress robes he was eyeing up at Madam Malkin's. So he sat through and rattled off his stock answers, much as he and Hermione had rehearsed in the days previous.

"What are your most vivid recollections about that night?" asked Arcadius Frost, _International Times_ lead reporter hungrily. "The Night of Victory. Victory over Darkness Night. VD Day. What strikes you when you think of it?"

"The whole time was spent in fear," Harry mused, remembering the time. "But that night, when we finally beat him, fear was far away. That's what I remember most. No fear. But loyalty. Just friendship and bravery -"

"And, of course, love," added Frost. He must have heard the famous quite before, thought Harry.

"And love," Harry finished. His fans would not forgive him if he forgot his own trademark line. "Though I shouldn't have been surprised. Bravery and courage have never been things lacking in my gorgeous wife."

He looked over and smiled warmly at Hermione, sitting next to him. She smiled back at him, as lovely as the day they found each other. Nothing had dwindled between them. Though there were a lot of things new.

"So how are you, Mrs Potter?"

"Still having sleepless nights," said Hermione, lightly. "Though, thankfully, for the right reasons. Its why we've invited the young ladies from our teen magazines today. Might as well introduce you all."

She bounced the young infant she held in her lap, and smiled as she gurgled a giggle. Harry looked adoringly at them both. At Hermione, their first child perched on her thigh. His young family. _Their_ family. He had everything he'd ever wanted.

And he was truly happy.

_The End_


End file.
